Animorphs UK 1 - A Reveal
by adamheap
Summary: The Yeerks didn't just land in America. A small group of acting students in the UK are about to find that out, and their next performance could change the history of Earth forever. After a night at their local pub, they're about to learn it all, and receive a gift from a mysterious group of strangers. What is their intent?
1. Chapter 1

**Animorphs UK #1 – A Reveal**

**Chapter 1**

"My name is Sophia."

"I don't believe a word that comes from your venomous mouth!" Carlos cried in reply, kicking back his seat so it toppled to the floor behind him. "Lying little weasel! This is the last time your spread your vile words!"

"No, please!" I begged, cowering backwards and away from his ragged old desk. "Have mercy! I've told no lies!"

"Yet another lie!" He crowed, moving proudly towards me.

He reached for the pistol carried cosily in his holster and revealed it in my direction. I ducked, planting hands to the ground and wept for my life. I shook my head regretfully and sobbed, "I've done everything for you, Bartholomew. Everything! Can't you see?"

"I see only truth." He replied coldly.

_BANG!_

I collapsed, thumping to the hard floor. Lifeless.

"No! Oh god, no! Sophia!"

The stomping of feet on hollow ground came closer, and arms wrapped around my torso. Mary teared up, and her hands shook.

Bartholomew huffed petulantly. I could hear him shuffling. "I did what I had to do, my dear Mary. She was not one of us! She was a spy! A filthy, villainous spy! How could you not see?"

"She was never a spy…" Mary spat, putting force back into her tone. Her grasp on me loosened. "You are blinded by terror!"

"I have removed the blindfold! I can see it all, now! Look closely, Mary. Look closely, and see who she _really _is!"

"She's a girl!"

"She's not just a girl," He snarled. "She is none other than Katrin Mendelberg, the supposed German traitor! I've seen her, Mary, behind the curtains at the ball and under the bridge at Fowey! Did she ever tell you how she could speak fluent German!"

"No!" Mary sobbed. "It can't be! It's not true!"

It was good. I smiled a little, but remained still as a rock, my breathing steady and cautious.

Another voice rose up from behind everybody. The voice of Edward Stone, criminal detective. "I'm afraid it is, my lady… He tells the truth."

Mary's arms detached completely from me, and she stepped back in shock. "M-Mr Stone…" She stuttered. "Please tell me I-you… Oh fuck it!"

I laughed, and all acting ceased. I rolled onto my back and looked over to her, all prettied up in her World War I nurse outfit. She was definitely angry with herself, but this was the best attempt all day.

"Bravo!" The distant voice of our director, Ms Emilia Duncan, echoed. "That was much, much better!"

"Such a shame Kiani cocked it up again." Edward Stone – or Oliver – commented with amusement. He pulled away his fake bushy moustache. He looked much better clean-shaven. It didn't look too great with his bouncy, slick black hair.

"You were so close!" Emilia said, clasping her hands together. It was supposed to be a compliment or signal of achievement, but Kiani was too proud to be drawn in. She nodded emptily and crossed her arms. It would take her no more than five minutes to forget it and move on like it never happened.

"We've got it nailed," George said, twiddling his fake pistol in his fingers. "Just iron out the creases, that's all."

Even though he'd shot me, and he was my main nemesis in the play, George was very close to me. We'd been close friends throughout the first two years of university, long before the four of us had combined our skills for the new play Ms Duncan had been writing. George and I had gotten to know Oliver and Kiani well in the short time we'd acted together. I didn't know them anywhere near as much, but we'd started to spend a lot of time together as a group lately. We acted in even when we were far from the stage.

Oliver was a little boisterous, and it was hard to get used to him at first, even though he didn't have a bad bone in his body. A bulky guy, too, he could be an intimidating presence if he'd ever stop smiling.

Kiani was stubborn but forgiving, and she had a voice so perfect for the stage. Her rendition of I Dreamed A Dream was truly stunning. She was clumsy, though, hence why she was always the one to bugger up her lines and bring everything to a halt. Her black hair was straight but she managed perfect curls at the tips around her shoulders.

George had always been the other half of my double-act since before university. At our school back in Somerset we would attend drama class after school, and somehow we'd always be each other's antagonists. Something about how we allowed knew each other's expressions, how we read each other like open books, allowed us to combine into something on stage that _just worked._ It was like driving the perfect car, or sipping the faultless wine.

People thought we were a couple. No. I was pretty sure he was gay. Maybe that's why he was such a good actor. Must be in their genes.

He had wonderfully masculine features: A strong chin, chiselled jaw and eyes that would make you melt. His hair was golden-blond, eyes brown.

That was them. A cluster of wannabe Broadway legends, no different to me. Since I had learned to talk I had taken on the roles of villains and goddesses, men and beasts. It was my passion, my dream.

Sometimes I would lose sense of who I really was. My _real_ name was Amy. I kept having to remind myself. I could describe myself… but it would only be true in that moment. I was nobody, and everybody. That's who I loved to be.

"You all did brilliantly today," Ms Duncan congratulated, standing up tall from among the empty red theatre seats surrounding her. "We shall continue on Saturday, my little superstars!"

"Thank god," Oliver sighed, removing his big grey detective overcoat. "I'm sweating my bollocks off in this thing."

"I'm freezing." Kiani replied. She already looked like she'd gotten over her mistake, taking off her hairband with careful fingers.

I dusted myself off. The stitches of my skirt had trapped a lot of the dirt that had settled onto the stage. The place hadn't been used for a long time, having just been reopened for practises such as ours by the Arts School. Nobody had bothered to clean it. It had the horrible smell of _old _everywhere. It came as no surprise that there was no heating.

I didn't plan on a full change of clothing, so I dropped down from the stage and grabbed my coat from one of the many empty seats in the front row. I put it on and pulled my brunette hair from the collar.

"You both coming to The Riser?" Oliver asked, still taking off his excess clothing. It was a question directed at me and George.

George looked at me, as if I had to make the decision for him. Of course, that's how it always ended up going.

The Riser was a small pub just south of the Arts School, barely half a mile from the terrible theatre. Its full name was The Rising Sun. Every town had one. Oliver delighted in telling us last time we went there that it was the most common pub name in Britain. _Oh, that's very interesting, _I remembered saying to him. That took a lot of my acting ability. But whatever the name, it was a cosy little place not very different to the places my mum and dad used to take me back in my home county. There were old antiques covering as much of the white walls as possible, and the ceiling was a mosaic of old beer pump badges. A huge fireplace was a delight on cold evenings. And Douglas the old sheep dog… Yes, I wanted to go.

"Yeah, we'll come." I said with a smile.

Kiani went backstage for a more thorough change of clothing, meaning we'd have to wait around a little while longer. When Oliver and George found rugby to be the best source of conversation, I simply sat back in one of the creaky old seats and stared off into the distance, studying the rest of the scene that we'd failed to perform in my head. I could feel the words and the emotions I would need to portray for my secondary character when she returned. I would feel every hand movement and sweep across the stage. Her revenge on the character Bartholomew would be bittersweet, but a triumph of eloquent storytelling…

I became aware in the midst of daydreaming that Ms Duncan had not yet left. She was approaching me with that innocent, aged smile on her slender face. Outside of her frequent dramatization, she was just a sweet old lady with the biggest passion.

"Hey, Ms Duncan," I greeted. "Staying for the deleted scenes?"

"This is Behind the Scenes material, my dear," She said with a chuckle. She took a seat and the scent of lavender fragrance washed over me. "I just wanted to say how fantastic you were up there tonight."

I couldn't help but grin. Praise was like a succulent chocolate dessert after a mouth-watering main course. "Thank you so much! It's going so well, isn't it?"

"I can just feel it all," She said, illustrating power with her hands, eyes clenched shut. "The emotion and the loss. It's so beautiful! It's like I'm at Broadway sometimes. I just want to get lost in awe, the sweeping, swooping…" She helpfully demonstrated the motions with her hands. "I just _feel _it. My characters truly have come to life."

"It's a great story," I commented. "It's just so easy to be Sophia. She's so… secretive! I love it. I know she's meant to be one of the bad guys, but I can really sense part of myself in her. And George plays Bartholomew so well, that just makes it easier."

She opened her eyes again and looked right at me. "George is lovely, my dear, but you're something special."

Her voice had been lowered, quiet enough that it didn't invade the boys' conversation about the Ireland-France game.

"I am?"

She nodded. "I've watched you since you started in the Arts School. You're one of those… one of those _bright sparks_!" She said, again using her hands to further her point. "You're a natural. You're a superstar in the making. I picture…" She gazed off, up to the stage and beyond. "Mamma Rose. Velma Kelly. Mrs Lovett. Your range of styles is without limit."

"I don't think I'd do a good Mrs Lovett…" I giggled. "But thank you so much. It means a lot."

She placed a dainty hand on my arm and looked deeply into my eyes. "My dear, the world is yours for the taking."

"Thanks Ms Duncan!" Kiani called. She and the boys were heading for the exit, ready to leave.

"Run along now," She said to me. "I'll see you on Saturday. Have fun with your friends."

I said goodbye and chased after the others. Within me was a swell of great satisfaction. I'd been told time and time again what could be in store for me in the future, but with each new encouragement my hopes grew higher.

Yes, I would make it. The world would be mine for the taking.

But after that night at The Rising Sun, the world would become an entirely new stage, and I an actress far beyond poor old Sophia. This would be my last play, and the stage was finally set.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

We sauntered to the pub with a spring in our stride. After a good rehearsal, our moods would always be brighter, and though there was still a lot to overcome, things were looking great for the future of _Edward Stone. _We joked about each other's performances and tentatively suggested new lines and stances, talked about how the _big _moments would leave the audience reeling. With months to go before the play would see the limelight, there was plenty of time to speculate and ponder over our many characters. The journey to The Riser was a quick one.

A strong gust of wind introduced itself as we passed by a large construction site on a street corner, and rain started to drizzle down. Kiani again complained about being cold, but we could see the inviting glow of The Riser further into the town centre, so her complaints were little more than statements of fact. Her thin dress was likely a good reason she was feeling the bitter wind more than the rest of us.

George arrived first at the entrance and pushed on the big black door. Light chatter filled our ears, as did the smell of a montage of beverages. The golden glow of shimmering bronze artefacts was a comfortable token of many public houses, an indicator of a quiet, friendly and drunken atmosphere with friends. We came here often after rehearsals or before a big night out further into the town, whether to prepare for a drink-fuelled marathon or to get suitably plastered. Our normal spot in the far corner beside the roaring fire was left for us. It was like a second home.

It was Oliver's turn to buy in the round. I asked for the regular G & T, the same as Kiani, while the boys took their time to examine what new beer was on tap. George arrived at the table shortly after us, having made his decision, and sat beside me. I was tucked right into the corner, not too close to the fire to grow overwrought by it, but near enough to bask in its glow. From there, I could see the whole room, from the shining glasses that lined the walls behind the bar to the old codgers at the opposite side chortling with their snouts half buried in beer foam.

"Oh, hey Dougie!" Kiani suddenly cooed. Over the lip of the round, beer-soaked table popped up the excitable head of one of The Riser's most popular residents. Douglas the sheep dog was always around, always wagging his hairy tail, and always covered in dirt from the field he was regularly walked in. He craved attention, and we'd never refused to give it, so he came to us more often than not.

"Hey boy!" George said, rubbing at Douglas' head. "You got us a stick?"

He reached below the table, and with a jerky motion, whatever Douglas had brought over went sprawling across the floor. The dog followed with hurried clicking claws. On the way back he almost tripped Oliver, who had just turned away from the bar with four drinks clutched awkwardly in his grasp. "Whoa, hey," He laughed. "Dog's trying to kill me! Who threw the stick?"

"Wasn't any of us." Kiani replied mischievously.

"Sure, sure…" Oliver said, entirely disbelieving. "Is that the thanks I get for buying you all drinks _again_? A broken jaw? You're all a buncha twats."

We laughed it off as he gave us each our drink of choice. Mine was the rhubarb gin, slightly pink in colour. Kiani had something a little more ordinary, while George and Oliver had settled on some new ale that looked (and probably tasted like) soil. They discussed it like connoisseurs, and it was pathetic.

"You have to admire the acting," I said to Kiani. "They could almost convince you that they know what they're talking about."

"I know what I'm talking about," Oliver defended. "My Dad brewed his own."

"You aren't your Dad." Kiani pointed out.

"It's a genetic thing. Some people have a better taste for this kind of stuff than other people. That's why men drink ale, and women drink fancy water."

"Oh, shut up!" Kiani laughed. "That stuff looks –and smells – like dirt. At least _fancy water _has taste."

Oliver raised his chin and looked down his nose at her, with a not-so-well-disguised cheeky smile. "Your taste simply isn't as refined as one's own."

"Well, _you _are about as refined as a misshapen dick."

"Misshapen dick?!" George spluttered in amusement.

"She's seen her fair share of _those_," Oliver jested. "Ever wondered why she always leans to her right side in class?"

Kiani rolled her eyes. "It's because you're to my left."  
George winced humouredly. "Ooh, brutal…"

Defeated on this occasion, Oliver gulped down a large portion of his ale and wiped at his lips with the back of his wrist. When his hand dropped back down, it found Douglas' head, and he commenced the scratches behind the ears that the pet so loved. His tongue lolled contentedly from the side of his panting mouth.

The action drew my attention away from them for just a moment as I indulged in my own drink. Over the rim of my glass, the front door to The Riser came into view when it opened. From behind the imposing black door stepped a man in a dull grey jacket and loosely-held red tie. He must have been in his fifties, and he looked ragged and hunched as he scuttled towards the bar. Overweight and gormless in the face, he nevertheless looked shifty and insincere. He looked like a man up to no good. And I had seen him many times before.

We'd never spoken, never interacted or uttered even a grunt to each other as we'd pass by in the town. However, I would always catch him glancing at me, whether it's from across a busy street or, as it was tonight, within a small public room. Those empty, dull eyes would always be sneaking in a look or two.

It was about two or three months ago when he started appearing. It was the same attire every time, no matter where I'd spot him. I'd passed him several times in the town centre at all times of the day, spotted him in the park and on the university grounds where he seemed completely out of place. The strangest? I caught a glimpse of him while taking a coastal walk at Charmouth, a town many miles from here. It was a split second, but I was sure it was him. Same red nose, same droopy jowls.

The occurrences felt much more than coincidence, which I put it down to at first. This creep had been following me, and following me for quite some time. I felt cold when I saw him this time, even as the fire roared close by and Douglas buried his skull into my side with a plea for attention. I stroked at his neck slowly, watching the stalker as he climbed heavily onto a bar stool, mostly hidden by another man.

"Amy?"

I heard George and darted my eyes to him. "Uh… Oh, yeah?"

He must have asked me a question. He raised an eyebrow at me, suspecting something wasn't right. "Are you okay?"

"Yep! I'm okay. Sorry, Douglas was distracting me." I ruffled the dog's hair, whose head was rested on my thigh.

"I was just asking," He started to ask. "You want to sign up for the Joseph production?"

"Which Jose-" I recalled the poster in the arts school we'd seen before we left for rehearsal. "Oh! Oh, that one. Sure, why not?"

"That narrator role is mine," Kiani said nonchalantly. "I used to sing those songs all the time. I could match Linzi Hately note-for-note."

"Well, who would she play?" Oliver asked, referring to me.

"Pharaoh's wife. You know, the one who seduces Joseph?"

"We all know who's playing Joseph then."

George smiled, but shook his head sheepishly. "You know I can't sing. I don't do musicals, mate."

"Can you sing?" I asked of Oliver.

We'd never heard him sing before. Kiani was fantastic, I was skilled but nothing special, and George was useless. Oliver had never sung a note that wasn't delivered as a drunken roar.

"Well, I don't like to blow my own trumpet…" He sniggered. "But I've been compared to Freddie Mercury."

"In what way?" I asked.

Kiani suggested an answer for him. "You're gay?"

"Um, no."

"HIV-positive?" George followed-up.

"No!"

"Who even told you that, anyway?" I giggled, suspecting the answer.

Oliver shrugged. "Does it matter?"

George provided us with a probable idea. "It was your mum, wasn't it?"

"… Maybe."

Kiani laughed. "I bet she calls you a handsome, strapping young man, too."

"Why, yes she does, actually!" Oliver laughed, stringing himself along with the joke. He'd never struggled to denigrate himself for the purposes of humour. It was one of his more appealing traits.

"Even if you can't sing, you do a pretty good Edward Stone, even though… I think you should grow your sides out a bit," I mentioned, splaying my fingers towards the sides of my own hair. "The moustache doesn't really go with what you've got going on up top."

Perhaps feeling a little insecure, Oliver ran a hand over his thick, black hair. It was indeed very short at the sides, and medium-length on top. Quite a modern haircut, and not quite matching the styles of the early years of this century. "Ahh, come on," He chuckled. "It doesn't look _that _strange, does it?"

George said, "You come across a bit like a rip-off Friedrich Nietzsche. I think she's right, a couple changes here and there would improve it."

"You can't be serious…" He grumbled, dropping his pint to the table as he'd taken another big gulp. "I like having my hair like this. I look goofy when it grows out."

Kiani laughed, but it was friendlier. "It won't look goofy. Trust us. It looks goofy _now_ when you put that bloody moustache on. We all have to make personal sacrifices to fit our roles!"

"For a small-time play? For Broadway or television, maybe, but who are we expecting to watch Edward Stone? Uni students and the faculty's kids?"

"She's right," I said in her defence. "If you want to become a character, you have to _become _that character."

"Hear, hear." George added, and rose a half-full glass.

When he pulled it back down, I saw the creep again. His eyes slinked back towards the rear of the bar.

We left The Riser at about 11PM. Safely inebriated, we would slink to our respective flats to recover for the new day ahead. I had classes starting early, so I hadn't had too much to drink and settled for coke after my second G & T. Oliver, as per usual, placed no such restrictions on himself, and was in a very jolly mood as we exited. Kiani went in the opposite direction, so the remaining three of us went back past the construction site and away from the town centre.

Oliver was next to go, but we made sure to take a detour that allowed him to get back home in one piece. After guiding into his student apartment block, George and I continued onwards. We reached his rented property about five minutes later.

"Think I'll take it easy tomorrow," He told me when he took out the keys to enter. "I'm driving back home for the weekend on Friday, and I swear every hangover just gets worse and worse."

"I thought we had another rehearsal on Saturday." I recalled.

"Shit, yeah…" He cursed, shaking his head at his own forgetfulness. "I'll sort something out. My fault."

I rolled my eyes. "I think, for your birthday, I should buy you a scheduling book. You're going senile."

"My head's just full of ideas," He sighed. "My old tutor always told me that forgetfulness was the sign of a head filled with thoughts."

I cocked my head at him, curious. "What sorts of thoughts?"

He paused, and then chuckled. "Nothing interesting. Scripts, mostly."

"Writing your own?"

He almost seemed to blush, only visible by the white glow of the nearest streetlight. "I might be. I wouldn't tell you until it was done."

I smiled. "You should share."

He fumbled his key into the lock of the front door and forced the stubborn thing open. "I'll see you tomorrow, Amy. Good and early."

"Goodnight," I wished him. He closed the door, and left me on my own.

I didn't live too far from him. Only ten minutes or so, so I began the walk with thoughts of what he could have created buzzing through my head. I knew that he'd been writing something, I'd been sure of it. Whether it was any good, only he could know. Nothing had reared its head up yet, so he clearly wasn't too happy with it.

My path home led through a long suburban street lit by orange streetlights. I watched my feet, hands in my pockets as I walked, paying attention to the sounds of the light breeze and the rain that had started to gently emerge again.

I was not alone on the stretch. I could hear distant footsteps behind me, but at first I thought of it just being a local on their way home from some event somewhere. Or another student. There were always house parties going on.

At the end of the street was a junction. My rented house was down to the right, so I crossed the road and gazed down the slight incline that I would take. Only then did the person behind me enter my peripheral vision.

It was him. It was the creepy man, the one I'd thought was a stalker. I could recognise the grey knitted jacket and red tie, and the stumpy, hunched figure behind it. He was following in me, and this time it was far more obvious. He didn't look at me, or give any signs that he feared being spotted. He just kept walking, as if he could just escape my attention.

But that was the last straw. I _knew _he'd been following me. It was no mere coincidence, and if I were correct then this advance would surely be for something sinister. He could have just been some creepy stalker with a voyeuristic obsession. He could have wanted more. And I was alone.

Stupid man neglected to realise that all around were home, many with lights ablaze inside. So many people and so many of them awake to hear anything from the quiet street. With that solemn comfort in mind, I decided that it was time to do something about this man.

He was still coming closer. I was now on the other side of the street. If he started to cross the road, then there would be no doubt left in my mind. I stood and waited, watching him so that he knew I was aware.

He started to cross. This was it. I had to do something.

"Oi!" I shouted. "Would you stop following me? I know you've been following me, I'm not stupid!"

The man said nothing, and now he was merely a few metres from me and still proceeding.

His eyes looked up for the first time and connected with mine.

"Shit…" I cursed to myself. _Okay, Amy, this is a really fucked up situation now. Stay calm. Just stay calm. The guy's a pushover. You could take him if he started anything._ "Are you going to answer me?!"

Nothing again. I had the sudden urge to run as he showed no sign of changing his direction. He would walk right up to me, shrouded now in shadow as he passed under the last light of the street. What if he… What if I… Oh god, I wasn't ready for this!

I braced myself for whatever was to come.

And then he stopped.

He must have been two metres from me. Still, he was wordless, but now he looked up at me, and I suddenly got the feeling that this was something I hadn't expected. Then, he lifted a hand and started to reach into his jacket pocket. I stepped back instinctively, not sure what he'd pull out, but when he retracted a folded piece of lined paper, I became more curious than terrified. Of course, some terror still lurked, but his intentions were more of a mystery.

"Take it." He grumbled, impatient at my hesitance.

I stepped forward cautiously and reached to take the paper. As I moved back and began to unfold the paper, I noticed him turn away. He was leaving.

"What in the world…?" I uttered. "Hey! Please explain to me what's going on!"

"Just go where it tells you to go." The hunched old man told, voice full of discontent.

My head was abuzz with questions and not a single answer to them, but in the midst of my inner contemplation I finished opening up the piece of paper and aimed it towards the streetlight to read. The writing was boldly scribbled in pen.

_8PM_

_FRIDAY_

_18 MEADOWMEAD ROAD_

_BE THERE._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I went to 18 Meadowmean Road on Friday at 8PM.

However, there was nothing on the note that specified anything else, so I took some things with me. Those things being my friends and Oliver's Motorola. I wasn't going to take any chances, and yet I was determined to set this guy straight so he'd finally stop bothering me.

I knew why he gave me the note. He wasn't so stupid that he would assault me in the middle of a public place. No, he would take me somewhere private. What a bloody scumbag!

"So this guy was at Fowey? Geez…" Oliver said.

They were a bit miffed that I'd never brought this up before, and during the walk over they asked me for all the details, how I knew what his intentions were. Instead of doing the wise thing and sleeping last night, I'd formulated a story in my head to explain why he'd followed me so religiously, and why he'd handed me that address. In the end, I thought the answer was a simple one. Also disturbing.

So the plan was to turn up as a group and tell the man to back off. If he reacted, we'd call the police. Then, it would all be over and I could enjoy my gin in peace.

George was quiet and protective once I'd told him. He was visibly single-minded as we walked, barely attentive to the conversation we were having. Oliver and Kiani were more interested in the drama of it all.

"He's probably just some old geezer with nothing better to do than try his luck on somebody half his age," Kiani theorised. "Probably never been laid. Probably spent his whole life in some crap job."

"He's just a dirty great twat." Oliver suggested instead. Any of the options could have been true.

"This is the place." George said dryly. He really wasn't eager to contribute to the speculation.

What I expected was a run-down husk of a home, with untrimmed lawn and dirty, blacked-out windows. Maybe some rubbish bags cluttering the pathway. We were all surprised to see that the place was well kept, lined with flowering bushes and freshly painted fencing. Beyond the clear windows were white curtain nets and some abstract ornaments on the sills. There was a cat flap in the door that looked to be frequently used.

It didn't deter us. Maybe creeps could also be good at housekeeping. It just broke a misconception we had, that was all.

George was first through the small metal gate, and it squeaked when he pushed it aside. In single file we marched down the narrow path to the house's front door. It was a glorious red with a golden knock. George slammed the knock far harder than it ever needed to be.

I cleared my throat and pressed against his arm, allowing me to force myself past him. "Calm down, George. Let me deal with this."

He looked to me with concern. Having known each other for so long, we became very protective. It wasn't unlike him to try to take on my problems. To be fair, I did the exact same to him. When I let him know that he was taking on more than he needed, he was unsure but allowed me to take control. The last thing I wanted was for him to land a punch on the guy and get taken away in a police car.

The door opened. A little stunned to see four of us, the creepy old man glanced from one to the other. Maybe he thought I was stupid, that I would come alone. He clearly had no idea what to do in this situation.

"Well?" I asked of him, folding my arms. "You wanted to see me?"

"Why did you bring your friends?" He said.

Oliver answered, "We know what you want, mate. Just admit it."

His lips tightened with aggravation. "You _don't _know what I want."

"Just keep away from Amy, you fucking twat!" George shouted, pushing a few inches forward.

Then, another voice popped into the scene. It came from deeper inside the house. "Hey, hey! What's going on over there? Derek?!"

The old creepy guy – now known as Derek – slowly turned to face back inside. "She brought friends!" He called. "They're acting very strange."

"_We're _acting strange?" Kiani said.

The other man emerged from down the hallway. He didn't look anywhere near as decrepit as Derek. He wore a dark suit which was neatly adorned, and his face was clear and friendly. He'd gone bald on top, leaving thin black hair clasping on around his ears and to the back of his head, and he had wispy little eyebrows. He was a portly fellow, but his stance was proud, and he came across as very chummy. Laughing cheerfully, he moved beside Derek and observed us. "Strange?" He blurted. "They don't look that strange to me. Ms Harwood, I hope Derek hasn't given the wrong impression."

I felt my eyes narrowing, an action that portrayed my confusion and suspicion. "What is this? I want to know why I've been told to come here."

"Yeah, or we call the police." Oliver stated.

The smartly suited man chuckled. "There'll be no need for that. There's no ill-intent. You're all very welcome to come inside for tea while we have a chat with Ms Harwood."

George shook his head with doubt. "Why don't you just talk out here? We don't need to go inside."

The smart man's smile faded, just a little bit. "I'm afraid it will be a private conversation. My colleague is waiting inside. Anyway! How rude of me… Ha! I never introduced myself!" He held out a thick, chubby hand. "My name is Bert. Very pleased to meet you all."

I looked at the hand, and then to him. I didn't shake it. I told him bluntly, "I don't trust you. If I see either of you again, I'm calling the police. Now, kindly fuck off."

I turned to head back down the path, and my friends did the same, content with the warning.

"Would our guests like some tea and biscuits?"

The voice of a lady caused us to hesitate, just before we got to the squeaky gate. When we looked back at the door, a middle-aged lady with puffy brunette hair was peeking past the two gentlemen at us. Her voice was that of a middle-class women, and she was well-presented. Maybe it was wrong to assume that such a person wouldn't be involved in something as sinister as we had suspected, but it caused it to take another moment to consider.

"I don't like this," George said quietly. "Go into a stranger's house, who's been stalking you for months?"

"I don't know, mate, there's four of us, three of them… And they don't _look_ like rapists or murderers or whatever." Oliver countered.

Kiani backed George. "So they've come up with something elaborate. And who knows how many people are in there?"

It was down to me… and before I could make a decision, another wrench was thrown into the works. The man called Bert had jogged out towards us, and though we took a couple steps back, we gave him a few seconds to explain himself.

"Look, okay, this isn't something egregious," He said, with hands motioning to calm things down. "Ms Harwood, maybe we did this the wrong way, huh? Maybe Derek here looked like a closet rapist when he was scouting you. But that's what we were doing, right? Scouting. You're here for an interview. Big opportunity coming your way! Believe me!" He cheered. "If you can't trust me, you can't trust nobody! They call me Bert Expert."

It still didn't make total sense… but he'd convinced me enough that I wasn't here to be assaulted. "Okay. Sure." I said with a nod.

"Good, good!" Bert chortled. He held out his hand again, and this time I shook it. His grip was firm and a little sweaty. We started to walk back to the house. "Ms Harwood, can I call you Amy?"

"Sure, whatever." I replied blankly.

My feet ascended two steps and in through the front door. Derek had backed away, but the lady was still present. "This is Lisa," Bert told us. "She'll keep your friends happy while we talk."

"Good evening to you all," She said with a toothy, white grin. "Tea? Coffee?"

My friends were still very uncertain, but they nevertheless took their pick of hot beverage, which Lisa promised to make. I requested tea. White, one sugar.

"TV's on for you," Bert told the others, pushing open the first door to the left where Derek had gone. The living room looked nothing out of the ordinary: A boxy TV in the corner by the window, a big leather sofa and a dining table at the opposite end. There was also a big computer nestled snuggly against the far wall. I didn't see much else, as I was shuffled forward by the many bodies behind me. Oliver, George and Kiani left my sight. It was just Bert and me.

"Just through here," Bert said, pointing to the next door in the hallway, right at the end. My nerves started to return, aware that I would now be separated from the others by two walls and two doors. I breathed heavily as I pressed down on the golden door handle.

I stepped into what appeared to be a small office with dull brown walls and a naked bulb sticking down from the ceiling. There was a desk in the middle, and an empty wooden chair on my side.

On the other side sat a man, his hands clasped and index fingers pressed to his lips. Serious blue eyes watched me. His figure was slim, and his facial features bony. The skin of his forehead and down to the edges of his eyes were wrinkled and a little discoloured. It looked like he's spent most of his life frowning, and from what I could see of his lips, they looked dry and husky, like he barely ever used them.

The suit he wore matched Bert's, but every other aspect of their appearances was in complete contrast.

Bert gently shut the door behind us, and the sounds of the distant TV vanished, leaving the room cold and silent. Bert walked ahead of me and took his place beside the other man, leaning back against the wall.

"Please take a seat." The thinner man said.

I did as he offered and gently placed myself down onto the cold chair. I crossed my legs and allowed my arms to lay together on top of them.

"Good evening, Ms Harwood," The thin man said. "My name is Isaac."

He held out a spotty, bony hand. I shook it. "Hi."

"You've already met my colleague, Bert," He said. "We're glad you decided to come along today."

His voice was bland and monotonous. It didn't seem like he was comfortable with talking, unlike Bert. His eyes, however, were unrelenting.

"I understand you may be somewhat nervous," He said, noting my lack of response. "So I'll just skip ahead to why we're here. Ms Harwood, Earth is being invaded by a parasitic race called the Yeerks. They infest Humans and utilise them as soldiers and workers to further the cause for a great Yeerk Empire that continues to stretch unregulated through our sector of Space. This may include your friends and family. Odds are that the Yeerks will continue to enslave humanity until the population is entirely under their control, and they will use Human technologies to further their advance to other worlds. We don't mean to cause you panic, but your race will very likely cease to exist as free beings within, oh, say five years."

"Uh huh…" I said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It wasn't the kind of interview I'd been expecting. I shuffled uneasily in my seat, trying to delve deeper into the words to figure out what exactly was going on. Was it a test? Was I supposed to react in a certain way?

I was an actor. This was an interview. Okay, I knew what was going on.

"That's awful…" I said with a gasp. "Five years? There must be some way to stop it."

Isaac nodded stiffly. "That's why we're here. We've been spending some time thinking of how to stop the Yeerk advance and protect Humans from enslavement. Of course, it's not easy…" He sighed. "And the best thing we can do for now is to gather intelligence in hope that we can cause sufficient delay. Those hopes rely on a race called the Andalites."

Bert chuckled abruptly. Isaac swivelled to him, disturbed by the interruption. Bert shrugged and cleared his throat, quietening.

"Who are the Andalites?" I pressed. "Will they get here in time?!"

"It may take a couple years," Isaac replied. "The Yeerk Empire has stretched widely, and Earth is not the first priority."

"Not the first priority?!" I gasped. "How can we not be the priority? Think of all the families! Think of all the children whose parents are in shackles! Think of the husbands, whose wives have been stolen from their loving hands!"

Isaac and Bert were taken aback. They exchanged a glance.

"She's got spirit, this one." Bert commented with amusement.

"Quite…" Isaac replied. He focused on me again. "Ms Harwood, we are here to ask for your help. You're renowned by our team for your abilities. You're also not well-known outside of your close circles."

_Thanks, _I thought to myself.

"We think you're perfect for the mission we propose," He continued. "Subject to you accepting, you will be provided with suitable technology in order that you are able to maintain observance of Yeerk activities both here and abroad. We're willing to help you with an alibi so that your activities won't be interrogated. You will also be rewarded for contributing to the efforts to scupper Yeerk progress."

I stared at him with intent. "You know I'd do anything for my family. Anything to protect them from these monsters."

They looked to each other again. Was my posture wrong? Was I expected to react in a different way? It was too late for a sudden switch. I had to maintain.

"Geez," Bert chuckled. "Never thought it would be this easy."

Isaac ignored his comment. "Ms Harwood, no matter the result of this meeting, you must say _nothing_. Nobody outside of this room is to hear this information. Not even your friends. You will only be putting yourself, and them, in danger."

"I understand," I said. "But I have to ask… How will I know who's been infested?"

"You won't."

"So my family… my friends…"

"May be infested," He said for me. "That may be upsetting, but with our help, and with your efforts, work can be done to counter this menace."

I bowed my head and stared sadly to the distance. My lower lip quivered. I made sure that my body tightened, so that I looked anxious and on-edge. "I'll do it." I spoke.

"I have to ensure that you know just how dangerous this will be for you," He explained. "It is no easy decision, and we're willing to give you time to think it over."

"I'll do it!" I reinstated forcefully, looking into his eyes. "I'd be nothing but a coward if I didn't!"

He nodded, though he still looked uncertain. "Very well. We will give you a piece of Andalite technology so that you can carry out initial observance of the local area. We have several key locations in the town that we wish for you to study for unusual activity."

Bert reached forward and handed me a small piece of card. I took it in a shaking hand and read what were instantly recognisable as coordinates.

Isaac explained, "Unusual activity could be people going in and not returning. Gathering crowds. Unearthly sights…"

"Big green space lizards." Bert added.

"And we will provide you with the tools you need," Isaac said. "We wouldn't expect you to spy on the locations without adequate disguise. However, this technology is to remain strictly secret, and it must be used responsibly."

I placed the coordinates in my pocket. "Secret. Of course."

Isaac moved with more than just head motions for the first time. He grabbed something from below the desk and placed it on the surface. It was a small cube, really nothing that looked too amazing. It had a slight purple glow.

"A cube?" I huffed. "That's it? That's how I save humanity?"

Isaac was unfazed. "This Andalite technology will allow you to turn into any living organism whose DNA is acquired. The ability to morph will be the tool used to scout Yeerk activity."

I didn't think it was the greatest prop, but I would save that comment for later. For now I had to stay fully immersed. "Does that mean… I can turn into an animal?"

"Precisely," Isaac said. "But only for four hours at a time. If you stay in morph for longer, you will not be able to return to your Human body. We have managed to collect for you a small number of animals we thought would be useful in your task."

He revealed from his inner suit pocket five tiny sealed bags. Each one had a tab inside. Again, it looked very innocuous.

"We have here for you…" He started, looking at the small labels each bag had. "Pigeon, Staffordshire Bull Terrier, squirrel and seal."

"I tried to get you a tiger," Bert said. "But they ain't native. Would stick out a bit, huh?"

"I can turn into any of those?" I asked.

"And any other animal whose DNA you will acquire," Isaac explained. "You have to touch the animals to do that. We will do our best to supply other DNA, within reason, but these are your starters. Realistically, they should be all you need."

What an interesting plot! It would be good for a book series. Perhaps even a movie.

"Do I just hold the cube when I do it?" I asked, gazing at the strange object.

His hand was still touching one side. "No. You simply have to place your hand on it now. Go ahead."

I reached delicate fingers forward and rested them on the purple cube, wondering how long they expected me to do so. It came as a shock when I felt a strange sensation shoot up my arm, like a small electric shock. Very convincing, if a little unnecessary.

"You have obtained the power," Isaac explained dryly. Then he started to open the four small bags, pulling the tabs out one at a time. He held the first up to me, a tiny blue patch showing. "Now place a finger on the blue spot. Picture a pigeon. Concentrate on it."

I followed his order, gently putting the tip of my index finger on the blue mark. I thought of a pigeon, with its feathers and beak. The way it bobbed its head forward and back as it walked.

Another strange sensation flowed into me. I accepted that the cube could do such a thing, but a small wooden tab? They really went out of their way to make some convincing props, even if they didn't _look _all that interesting.

The process was repeated until I'd 'acquired' all four animals. I felt a little strange.

Isaac cleared his throat and began to put everything away under the desk. "In order to morph, you must concentrate on the organism until the change is complete. While you are in morph, you can communicate telepathically to those in a short range. If you'd like, we could arrange a training session. Just remember never to stay in morph for over four hours."

"Play it safe," Bert said. "Never go over three."

"Three hours," I repeated. "This technology is amazing. The ability to fly like a bird, climb like a squirrel and run like a dog… It's… It's amazing!"

"It certainly is," Isaac muttered. "Now, in thanks for your service, we'll pass over your compensation."

I looked at my hands in awe, stretching fingers like I'd gained such a supreme power. "The best of nature is all in me. I can feel it. I can really feel it!"

There was a bang. Bert had dropped an open briefcase onto the table in front of me, and inside of it…

Money. Lots and lots of money. Piled high and wrapped snugly.

"Wait, wha…?"

"Fair compensation?" Bert giggled. "Five-hundred-thousand pounds. That's your first pay check."

I stood up, barging the chair noisily backwards. All intent to maintain my character dropped, my thoughts instead engaged with the compiled rectangle of notes placed before me. I grabbed one of the bundles, wrapped in a silvery seal. It had to be fake. Surely!

I inspected it, looked for the tell-tale marks.

The money looked real. It felt real.

It _was _real.

"Oh my god, oh my god…" I uttered.

"It's all yours," Bert said. "Don't spend it all at once!"

"You mean this… I…"

I couldn't believe it. A briefcase full of money? That was stuff I'd only seen on the tele. But surely that meant…

"Wait," I gasped. "You mean… Oh, holy shit." I dropped what money was in my hands. Suddenly, it was no longer priority. "This is real?"

Isaac didn't look amused. "Of course it's real! You think we went through all of this for a joke?"

"I didn't… I thought it was an act! I thought…" Then something dawned on me. "We're being invaded?!"

"Do we need to start this all again?" Bert laughed.

"My family?!" I burst. "Oh shit, oh shit! What if they're… oh god!"

"Now you see, _this _was the reaction we expected," Bert said. "Just calm down, Amy."

"Calm?! What the fuck?!"

There came a series of bangs on the door, followed by George's muffled voice. "Amy! Amy! What's going on in there?!"

"They're fucking insane!" I yelled back. I went for the door, just as he managed to barge it open with fury on his face.

"I'll beat the crap out of y-! Shit, is that real?!"

He'd seen the money and stopped dead in his tracks. Oliver and Kiani followed him in, and their reaction was much the same.

Isaac was clearly frustrated. "Could we please calm this down?!"

"Who even are you?!" I demanded, turning back to face him.

"Is that real money?" Oliver asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"Yes, it's real!" Isaac shouted, his body twitching. "Now, please, scurry along back to the living room. We have business to take care of."

George wasn't going to let it drop. "Why was she screaming? What's going on in here?"

"We're discussing Ms Harwood's new employment, and it is a private conversation."

"It's not private at all." I huffed.

"Ugh…" Isaac sighed. "Why did we let her friends in again?"

Bert shrugged. "They insisted. Paranoid bunch."

"So that's real money?"

Kiani growled, "Oh, stop it Oli!"

I turned to George and folded my arms. "They told me that Earth is being invaded by Space parasites."

He blanked. "Seriously?"

"I told you that the subject was private!" Isaac hissed. "Must I remind you?!"

"Space parasites?" Kiani squeaked. "You have got to be joking."

I explained, "They want me to work as some kind of spy."

We all heard Isaac sighing heavily. It drew our attention. "Look, I will explain it to all of you. Satisfied?"

"This had better be good." George warned.

"Fine. We'll go through it all again." Isaac said, annoyed by the inconvenience.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

They thought it was an acting audition as well, but soon came around to the idea that there was more to the story than just an interesting plotline. Heads were in hands, and mouths were wired shut in disbelief.

My friends weren't offered the cube until Bert had used a strange machine to 'examine' them. He waved it around their heads for a long while, one at a time. He said they were clear, and then Isaac gave them the same offer I'd received, even though he looked repulsed by the idea.

"This was never agreed upon," He seethed as Kiani finished acquiring the squirrel DNA. "It was only meant to be Ms Harwood."

"I still don't believe a word of it." George grumbled. He'd gone through the acquiring process, begrudgingly so, and now leaned back in his seat with arms folded.

"You believe it enough to sit here and accept such grand technology." Isaac retorted, putting the cube and tabs away.

"Because I want to get out of here," He said. "This is bloody stupid."

Bert stepped forward and tapped nonchalantly on the desk. "Sceptical, huh? I get it. I'm sure Isaac does, too, but he's an incredible bore. You've probably found that out."

"Must you?" Isaac sighed.

"Accept the truth, my grouchy friend," Bert laughed. "Now, I'm happy for you to be a bit… uncertain. Things haven't gone entirely to plan today, but we can make this work. You all look like upstanding people, and I can bet that you'd do what you could to help out if you realised the true scope of what's going on out there."

Oliver said, "We get that, mate, but you haven't actually proven any of this stuff. This all just seems to be…" He looked to me. "Sure this isn't still some acting thing?"

"You know what? I think it might be. That money can't be real." Kiani speculated.

Bert raised his hands. "Okay, okay. We haven't proven it. Okay," He turned back to Isaac and shrugged. "What do you reckon? Got something to show 'em?"

"They can show themselves," He huffed. "They have the morphing capability."

Oliver laughed abruptly. "Are you saying that if I concentrate on a Staffy, I'll become one? Well, okay…"

He closed his eyes and put on a fake, almost mocking smile.

Kiani prodded his arm. "Still looks like a big ape to me!"

Isaac leaned his head into one arm. He was bored, but he kept his eyes on Oliver, almost expectantly.

Oliver opened his eyes and shook his head.

"Fee? –Othin'!"

Kiani blinked. "What did you say?"

Oliver's mouth opened, and out lolled a flat, waggly pink tongue. "-Othin'!"

Kiani almost fell from her chair. Then she screamed! George grabbed her by the arms and helped to lift her back up, but his eyes were bulged and his skin had gone the palest white.

Oliver realised something was wrong. His hands fiddled with his tongue, and he too began to change to white. "-Oleh fhit! –Oleh fhit!"

Isaac exhaled with disinterest. "Just think of your Human body and you'll change back."

I only then realised that my chair had moved away from Oliver a foot or so. My right hand was clasped to my mouth. Instinctual movements. All I could think of was _that _sight. Oliver with a dog tongue… It was grotesque!

But that meant it truly was all true! It couldn't have been a magic trick. It was too real!

I rocked a little in my seat and whispered some choice words to myself. I clasped onto the mug of tea I'd recently been given and perched the rim on my lips without taking a sip.

"Fhit! Fhit!... Shit!"

He was returning to normal. He continued to examine his tongue with scrambling fingers. Even when it was fully Human again, he played ever more with it.

Bert giggled. "Calm now. Didn't think it would cause such chaos!"

George panted and glared at him after he'd helped Kiani back onto her seat. "Okay. Okay, we get it. Whatever weirdness this is, it exists. What now? Why us?"

Isaac groaned. "We've gone through this! Do I have to explain a _third _time?!"

Bert waved a hand at his disgruntled colleague and spoke to George. "Don't mind him. _You _weren't chosen. Amy was. You just happen to be in the wrong place at the right time. Now that you know what's going on, we want you to help."

Kiani, still shaken, asked, "You want us to kill these Yeerk things?"

"Not quite," Bert said, shaking his head. "Not kill. That's not what we do. You will gather intelligence on our behalf."

"That doesn't explain why _we're _involved," I said. "Why not chose some trained agents? MI6 people?"

"Their roles don't allow sufficient… space. They are also liable to becoming targets or suspects. Students, on the other hand… _Art _students… Well, let's face it, you don't actually _do _much, do you?"

We wanted to argue. We couldn't.

"And Amy here," He continued, holding a palm towards me. "Is proficient in the skills we require. Language, disguise. Loyalty. She fits our mould. We've studied her long enough to know these things."

George's anger seemed to have subsided. His fingers were clutched around his chin as he studied the mysterious pair. I could see what he was considering, and I knew that he was becoming convinced of their story. He was looking for the best option, what the best deal was for us. His words weren't what I expected to hear, and I was a little shocked. "Two million."

Bert and Isaac both drew their gazes to him. Isaac began to reply, only to be hushed by a hand wave from Bert. Bert narrowed his eyes in thought, and a stray pair of fingers dragged the briefcase to the edge of the desk and back into the conversation. "You wish to split four ways?"

George nodded. "Four ways, five-hundred each."

Isaac rolled his head on his shoulders and looked away with a loud grumble. Bert was a little more considerate of it, but gave a counteroffer. "Eight-hundred split four ways."

"One-point-two mil."

Bert paused in thought, but then relented. He returned his bright grin and offered a hand to George. "Done."

George looked to shake his hand…

"Wait." I spoke up. I sat forward in my seat. I had a winning position.

Bert's hand dropped away. "Is there some disagreement?"

"My original offer was five-hundred-thousand," I said. "I won't accept a two-hundred decrease."

I could see Isaac almost wanting to slit his own wrists. Bert, on the other hand, was still willing to find the right compromises. "So you take five-hundred thousand, and the rest of you split the remaining amount."

"I'm not doing the same job for basically half the amount," Kiani insisted. "We all get the same."

"And I get the amount I agreed to." I added.

Then George added another condition. "Or we tell the police about your little mission."

Bert laughed, and heartily so. He even slapped at the table, causing Isaac to flinch. "You really are a feisty bunch! Since when did actors become this stubborn?"

"Since forever." Kiani said.

He continued to chuckle. "Fine. Two million, but we will expect cooperation."

"Deal." I said.

"Deal." George agreed, confirming that there was no longer disparity. He and Bert shook hands, and the deal was finally done.

Bert strolled away with a gleaming smile. Isaac was yet unmoved. He said, "Your training will begin tomorrow. Derek will pass on the details on your way out."

"Tomorrow?" George said. "I'm not here. I'm going back to Somerset."

"Then change plans." Isaac ordered with an authoritative tone.

He shook his head. "But I've organised with-"

"We have just given you a _very large _sum of money," Isaac seethed. "You will change your plans."

As if to illustrate, Bert closed the briefcase stacked high with money and moved to George, dropping the heavy weight into his lap. George had no rebuttal this time, but his hands caressed the case ponderously.

"The rest of the money will be handed over tomorrow," Isaac continued. "We didn't expect this change of circumstance, so please grant us the privilege of patience on that front."

The weight of the decision was still descending on us. Nobody was at all sure about what was going on, and what we were doing. The temptation of money was certainly playing its hand. Questions were popping up everywhere, but only a few were being asked with the limited courage we had.

Oliver stuttered before asking, "Isn't there some contract? I mean… all this money. Seems like something like this should be more… official."

"There will be no contracts," Isaac answered. "This money is not to be seen in bulk. Do not bank it. Do not be stupid when spending it. What has happened here today is only for present ears."

A new thought popped into my head. No contract, vast sums of money… Was this some criminal organisation we were getting involved with?

What kind of criminal has the power to turn into animals at their disposal?

"Is this some government technology? The animal-change thing?" I asked. "Something secret? How do you have it?"

Kiani followed. "Yeah, are you from the government?"

"We are not. We have told you about the technology. I don't know what's not to understand: This is Andalite technology. _Alien _technology. Non-Human."

"So who are _you_?" George asked. It was the question on everybody's lips.

Isaac said, "We are your allies."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It's the best you'll get. For now."

Bert clarified what Isaac had said. "We need to know if we can trust you before we get all cosy."

"If _you _can trust _us_?!" Kiani blurted.

"We aren't here for malicious intent," Isaac asserted. "We're here for justice. Trust us, and we can deliver you justice."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

George handed the fifty pound note to Daryl, the manager of The Rising Sun. It was a note we'd pulled out at random from the briefcase before we dropped it off in Oliver's flat on the way over. It was the nearest of our homes to where we'd come from. When we took the note, we made sure to delve deep into the briefcase, avoiding the notes that formed the top layer of many. It was the most random of notes.

Daryl hummed. "Not often you see these flying around," He commented. "Especially not with arts students."

He lifted up the note towards the brightest light of the bar and squinted his eyes. He examined it thoroughly as he always did when money was passed. He was a paranoid old git, but one with a keen eye for dodgy cash.

"So what was that? Two 'Obgolblins and two gin-and-tonic?" He popped open the cash register and began to sort some change. He'd accepted the money. I exhaled and ran my fingers through my hair.

"Yeah please." George said to Daryl. He threw a subtle, positive thumb towards Kiani and Oliver, sitting in our usual spot. Their reactions couldn't be placed.

When Daryl had passed back our change and drinks, we took everything back to the table with a joyful Douglas bouncing by our side as if there was nothing to be concerned about. Back in our seats, our postures were not so laid back, but we hunched forward so that our voices could be lowered and yet still heard.

Oliver was beyond belief. "Guys," He whispered, barely restraining from shouting. "We're rich! We're fucking rich!"

"What good is being rich if we can't do anything with it?" George countered.

I responded, "But we can. Just not all at the same time. We keep it as a rainy-day fund. Pretend it's just a charitable donation from some senile old relative."

"We drip it in small and steady." George considered.

"But there's so much of it," Kiani added. "How much do we _drip_? Fifty-grand every month?"

George was trying hard to take it all logically. "We can't do that. Maybe a couple hundred pounds at a time. Even then…" He groaned. "Something isn't right about this."

"Like what?" Oliver asked.

"We've just been given – or are about to be given – two million quid with no contract and no source. Let's be true to ourselves: We're _fuck all._ I'm not saying we won't be someday, but, honestly, we're just students."

"Well, they never wanted _us,_" Oliver said. "They wanted Amy."

"Funny," Kiani chuckled bitterly. "How easy it was for us to become involved in such a private conversation…"

"Yeah, that's right," George muttered. "And what was that thing they waved over our heads?"

I recalled the small metal object in question. It had been waved over their heads, and not my own. The answer seemed relatively easy. "Maybe they were checking for Yeerks."

"Yeerks…" George hummed. "Do we really believe that?"

"They wouldn't give us money over a story, right?" Kiani asked.

"You know what that would mean, though?" Oliver said. Then he looked around, quick glances at the small number of The Riser's current roster. They were none the wiser, all doing with their drinks what we weren't: drinking them.

"No way," Kiani said with a dismissive hand wave. "It's bloody stupid! Aliens? Here? Really?"

"Bert and Isaac said that they do all the things people normally do," I replied. "Maybe they go out and get plastered, too."

"That's one hell of a job," Oliver commented, having turned back around. "Do they get paid to sit around getting pissed?"

"Do they even get paid?" I asked.

George rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't get what they want us to do."

"Stop the Yeerks," Oliver replied. "Find out which ones they are here, and make them spill their pints."

I felt something hairy brush my side. Douglas dug his snout under my hand, demanding attention. With that, and Oliver's words, I had a quick thought. Could Douglas smell one? Could he smell a Yeerk? He always came over to us, and we were clean…

No. I wouldn't even try. Not until… "Training," I uttered. "What do you think this training will be?"

"James Bond training," Oliver said, and it almost sounded like a serious response. "They said we'd be spying."

"But not killing." George added.

"We're going through an alien invasion and we're not allowed to give 'em a good kicking?!" Oliver huffed.

"Jesus, Oli…" Kiani sighed.

"What?"

"This is serious!" She hissed.

The door to the pub opened. It didn't deter them from engaging in a small petty argument about Oliver's attitude, but the person who walked through caught my attention.

"Guys, guys…" I whispered, tapping Kiani on the arm.

"What's he doing here?" George grumbled.

Derek pulled at his collar and waddled over to the bar. He began to order his ale, casting one or two glances our way.

"Spying on the spies?" Oliver questioned.

"He's not doing a very good job at it," George said. "He keeps looking at us."

"Maybe we did something wrong." I offered.

Derek was handed his drink, and we awaited his action. It quickly became clear that he was no longer in a scouting role. He walked over, sipping at his drink while he did. He still looked like a creepy fuck.

"Clear some space, would ya?" He said when he neared.

George and Oliver moved their seats apart while Derek dragged a spare one over. He dropped down with a pained groan and made a point of ruffling his coat and moaning about the cold.

Not one of us had a response to his ill-placed grumblings. With that in mind, he dropped the trivialities and leaned forward. "We musn't meet in public places like this."

We all blinked at each other. George said, "_You _came over to _us_."

"This will be the only time," He replied, relieving his pint glass of another gulp of ale. "I'm just here to check up on you. Not often you're informed of an alien invasion. So tell me, how are you?"

There was an air of incredulity between us.

"We're okay…" Kiani replied warily.

"Good!" Derek said, following with a cough into a clenched fist.

He said nothing more, but continued to drink. I thought, at least, he'd have some information for us, or some tips, or… something.

"So…" Oliver uttered. "Uh…"

Kiani smiled to Derek and clasped her hands. "Good to see you, Derek!" She chirped. "Bye then!"

Derek didn't take the hint. He just stared at her.

"Have you actually come here for a reason?" George pressed.

"I'm-"He coughed again and inhaled loudly through his nose. "Here to answer your questions."

"Are you going to keep following us like a pathetic stalker?" George demanded.

"No," He replied. "What would be the point?"

George huffed. "Yeah. What would be the point…?"

Oliver was taking Derek a little more seriously. He sat forward and played with the nearest beermat. "How do we… you know, find them?"

"Who?" Derek asked.

Oliver looked around again. Like before, there was nobody within hearing range. "The Yeerks. How do we know who they are?"

"You can't. Not without careful, continuous observation." Derek replied.

Kiani had come around to tolerating his presence for the moment. "What do they do that's different?"

Derek finally placed down his drink, now that he was required to deal some serious information. "The Yeerks don't eat like us. They absorb nutrients in the presence of kandrona rays, which, because of a whole load of complicated chemical reactions, can't be done when they're inside of the host."

"So they leave the body." Kiani concluded.

Derek smirked. "Correct. Every three days, and they must go to specific locations. _That's _how you spot them."

"If they go to these places every three days." Oliver iterated.

"So we basically become Dereks." I said.

"We can all be Derek." Oliver added with a light-hearted grin.

"Only _I _can be Derek." Derek grumbled.

"You get what I mean, right?" I continued. "We just follow people around all the time until we find out?"

"Not just _any _people," Derek said. "We're not concerned about the ordinary people. Well, no, let me rephrase that… We are concerned with the freedom of humanity, but the lives of ordinary people will not help. We want you to find out about people in power. People of importance to military movement. Politicians."

"Jesus…" George gasped. "You're kidding."

"At what point today have I ever been _kidding_?"

We all shrugged or looked to the desk without an argument.

Derek continued, "I hate to jump the gun, because Bert and Isaac are the guys in charge, but I have a good idea of who you'll be after once your training is done. It's in London."

"Makes sense." Oliver interjected.

Derek cleared his throat, and then sniffled through a blocked nose. "The Prime Minister. The foreign secretary. The Queen. David Beckham."

"Wait, wait, wait…" Oliver stopped him with a chuckle. "We're spying on David Beckham. You're having us on!"

"I'm not." Derek replied.

"We're going to spy on the Queen," Kiani uttered. "_The _Queen. Her Majesty. We're going to _spy _on her, just so we know if she's secretly an alien invader. The Queen."

"Shit man…" Oliver whispered to nobody. "I'm going to spy on David Beckham…"

"Possibly," Derek said. "It's not certain, but expect to be following some very well-known people. We need to know where the Yeerk influence is being spread and how. We may also ask you to carry out some different tasks. Anything to slow the Yeerks down."

Slow them down? It brought up an important question in my mind. "So if we're going to slow them down, who's going to get rid of them? The Yeerks, I mean."

Derek looked to me with sunken, oafish eyes. "Don't ask me. Nobody knows yet. We're working on it."

That brought a sigh of discontent from everybody. Finally, it felt like the right time for us all to break into our drinks. We'd almost forgotten they'd existed. Now, we'd never let go.

"Have you got the same power we have?" Kiani asked of Derek.

He smiled. There were black gaps where some of his teeth used to be. "We all do."

We awaited him to add something to the statement. He did, eventually. His pint-less hand had been hidden beneath the table, but when he lifted it above the surface, it clearly was not Human. Dark, course fur covered it entirely, and his once dirty fingernails had been replaced with the claws of a dog. He pulled his sleeve down further to cover it, and dropped it back below the table.

"So instead of following me around like a creep," I said. "You could have followed me as a pigeon, or a seagull… You're a terrible spy."

He laughed, and it sounded painful. He adjusted in his chair and drank some more. His glass was nearly empty at this point, most of the contents making a home on his chin and clothing. "You think I didn't do that on purpose? Look, did I not prove a point? If you walk around after somebody in your own body, you're gonna get spotted. Now, if I was a pigeon, or a rat… Do you honestly think you would have gone to 18 Meadowmead Road if somebody unsuspicious gave you that note?"

"Probably not."

He waggled a finger in my direction. My answer was correct. "If you give them reason to suspect, they will scrutinise _everything _you leave behind. Stay hidden, and everything is a coincidence. Keep that in mind, and you'll have the easiest job in the world. Expose yourself, and we're all buggered."

He finished his drink and readjusted his jacket. He bid us farewell, and left us alone to contemplate. Nobody stayed long, and nobody said a word.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Saturday arrived, but with no sleep it felt like time had come to a standstill.

But tired eyes were perfect for this role.

"You're a pathetic man," I crowed victoriously. "And a fool. A fool to believe you could end this war with a single bullet! Now look at you: A husk. A shell filled with nothing!"

"Isabelle, you must understand," Bartholomew panted, clutching shaking hands on the ground before me. "My intentions were for the good of the country and for her people! How can you not see this?!"

I grinned and tickled at the trigger of my pistol. It was warm and ready. "I see only truth."

His weak eyes turned up from the floor and to mine. His own words played back to him, he started to piece together the puzzle. "You…" He growled. "You!"

Edward Stone, silent to that point, stepped forward pensively. "Isabelle, it cannot be…"

I pointed the gun to him, and his hands wavered to calm me. "That's right, Edward Stone. You thought you were so clever, chasing Bertrand around like a lost dog after scraps! Well, Bertrand is dead. I killed him, just like I killed Sir Henry Gullett!"

The ambience shifted. A blue dread settled over the faces of the men standing before me. The truth revealed, there was nothing left for me to do but…

"Wait, Isabelle! Please!" Bartholomew cried. "Might I speak a final word?"

I maintained my weapon, and cackled lightly, fiddling my fingers on the handle. "If you must, you poor wretch."

"You kill us now…" He uttered with pain. "You murder more than just the two of us. You murder us all. You unravel the plans to end the war, to bring peace back to our lands! Please, allow us to do what is right before you carry out your execution."

_BANG!_

He collapsed. Stone shuddered, his hands quivering either side of his head as the corpse of Bartholomew laid still on the ground.

"Your part in this war is over," I spoke to the body. "I won't allow you the pleasure of being the hero."

"You have made a mistake," Edward Stone uttered shakily. "They will find out, and you will be imprisoned as a traitor. For all your cunning and conniving, you cannot outwit Her Majesty's finest."

I grinned. "You underestimate me, just as you have done all this time, Mr Stone."

_BANG!_

"Ahh!" He screamed, collapsing to a heap on the floor. He clutched at his wounded leg and groaned in the pain.

I laughed again and started to pace around him as he nursed the wound with bloodied hands. "You won't be chasing anymore, Mr Stone. You will die here, and oh how I will enjoy these moments together."

"You're mad!" He seethed. "Bloody mad!"

"Mad?! I'm about to take my place as the saviour of Britain and her colonies. Everything's in place. All I need to do now is silence the one doubter who remains…"

I brought up my weapon again with a delightful sneer. This would be the moment Isabell would be reborn…

But there was a bang, louder than any pistol could muster! The lighting was abruptly cut away, and rumbles came below our feet.

I shouted, screamed. I grunted and yelled. In the dark I felt him wrap a hand around the barrel of the pistol. His other arm wrapped around my chest and he held me tightly.

The lights flickered as the sounds of aircraft shot overhead. Edward Stone had turned the tables, and as our hands wrestled the weapon, he was holding me in place.

"Get off me!" I yelled. "You will die, Stone!"

He groaned and attempted to push the weapon from my hold. "Drop the weapon, Isabelle!"

"The raid has started! The raid has started!"

It was Mary! Mary, that stupid girl. Stupid and naïve. Her whine carried through long before her.

I smirked. She was arriving just in time.

Edward Stone heard her too, and I could her the panic in his stuttered breath. "Mary, no! Stay away! Do not come inside!"

"The raid! The raid!" She cried.

Then she came through the door, tears and fright streaming down her face. She gasped when she saw the blackened depths of a barrel staring her down like the dead eye of a tiger stalking its prey.

Stone tried to avert the weapon, but with my might I held it in place. I pulled the trigger.

_BANG!_

"No!" Edward howled. "Dear Mary!"

His grip weakened, and I shoved him back, escaping his grasp with the weapon still in hand.

Mary was clutching at her chest, her eyes agape in stunned horror. Her knees hit the floor with a bang, accompanied by the thunderous roar of a distant bomb.

"How could you?!" Edward roared. I span on my feet as he rushed at me, but his wounded leg caused him to stumble and granted me the opportunity to dodge. He collapsed to the centre of the room, and watched as Mary fell dead to the dusty floorboards. His arm reached forward, but Mary could not join her hand to his.

"Monster…" He whispered. "Murderous monster…"

I stepped over him, placing my pistol back into its holster. I would need it no longer. "You know that what I do is for the best, Mr Stone."

He groaned and rolled onto his side in mourning agony. "That's not true! That's not true at all! You have given your life to a lie!"

"The sacrifices I make will save us all!" I replied.

He uttered a bitter, defeated laugh. "You think so highly of yourself, Isabelle. Yet, you a little more than a sp-"

He stopped. His motioned of nursing a wound ceased. It was like he froze in time. I waited for him to continue and held my posture and expression.

The wait continued. Had he forgotten his lines? In my peripheral vision I saw George just lift his head enough to watch.

My teeth clenched and I tapped impatient fingers on my belt. "_Spy…_!" I said quietly. "_Say it…_"

Then he looked up at me, his face blank. He said nothing.

The momentum dropped like a rock. I dropped my arms and glanced away. The scene was over.

"What the hell, Oli?!" Kiani grumbled, picking herself up from the stage. "We almost had it there!"

Oliver remained on the floor, the shock on his face remaining. George saw it, too. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," He said blandly. He never said anything blandly. "Just… forgot my line."

"You were flawless," Ms Duncan spoke up from the rows of seats before the stage, her voice echoing around the hall. "Until that moment. What was it? It's not like you to forget your lines!"

Kiani had her arms crossed, and she was huffing petulantly. George helped Oliver back to his feet as he started to regain his composure.

"Sorry, Ms Duncan," He said, rubbing a hand over his cheek where he'd hit the stage flooring. "I froze there. I know the lines…"

She smiled, and there was understanding. "That's okay, young man. No actor is without flaw. It's best you get the demons out now before the real show begins."

He tore away his big bushy moustache to reveal his own face. "It was good though, huh?"

Ms Duncan glowed. "It was like watching a Broadway show. Truly, you are all such splendid talent! All of you!" Then she gestured a hand towards Kiani. "A little much with the facials. You shouldn't oversell it."

Kiani's face spoke a thousand grumbling words, and she folded her arms into her chest. "Sure. Okay."

Ms Duncan turned to George next. "And you, where did the spark go from last time. You move with such energy and splendour, but today you shambled like zombie with bowel cramps."

George was embarrassed. I saw it, too, but his posture showed me that he had also gotten no sleep. He was no good without rest.

"Amy…"

I awaited the feedback, putting my hands on my hips.

"You were sparkling!" She said with glittery eyes. "Perfect."

Rehearsal ended, and Ms Duncan departed before us. We met up backstage once we'd all gotten back into our regular clothing to confirm our plans. Kiani had moved past her mild anger and, while we were getting changed, started to display the same concern over Oliver that I had. When we found him and George, we had to make sure that everything was okay to move forward.

"Sorry about getting angry earlier." Kiani said to him.

"No need," Oliver said, pulling his rucksack full of clothes over one shoulder. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

George nodded. "Same here."

Oliver continued, "I had this dream when I _did _get to sleep. We were all there, fighting people."

"Just people?" I asked.

"Yeah," He said softly, a tone I never associated with him. "Just people. We killed a bunch. Men, women. Children." His thick fists clenched and he looked to the floor. He shuffled awkwardly on his feet.

"They said no killing," George reassured. "Just a dream, mate. Okay?"

"Yeah, I know. I just remembered it on stage. That's why I froze."

I smiled to him. "We understand. Let's just get tonight over with. I'm sure we'll feel better after whatever this training is. How bad could it be?"

Oliver huffed a weak laugh. "Don't say that. I _hate _that cliché."

"Yeah, right," George sniggered. "You just jinxed us. I'm blaming you for _anything _that happens tonight."

"You can blame me for the cash, then," I replied. "I'm happy to take that blame."

"Let's just go," Kiani grumbled. "I want to eat tonight, and it's Steak Saturday at Wetherspoons. I'd happily eat half-a-million-quid's worth."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The details we had been given took us to a dark back alley in the quieter side of town. Most of the homes were either empty or inhabited by elderly people who wouldn't dare go somewhere so meaningless and haunting. The path took us around old bins and abandoned furniture. Ivy trickled from the ragged wall into our hair, and our shoes trudged through sloshy mud. My foot caught an old rusty pram, and George was alert enough to stop me smashing my face on the ground.

"I could be home right now," George grumbled. "Mum always makes a Ruby on Saturdays."

"Stop whining," Kiani told him. "You're worse than Oli."

"Me? Whine?" Oliver laughed. "That's all you ever do, Kiani. It's because you're a scummy southerner."

"And you're a northern numpty," She responded. "Although I'd hardly call Kettering northern."

"Anything north of Bristol is northern." George interjected.

George chuckled. "So all the important places, then."

"Oh, go eat your pie and mushy peas, you bastard." George laughed.

I shushed them. "Come on, guys, we're meant to be quiet."

"Yeah, right," Oliver said. "You never know when great-gran Mavis is going to give chase."

The path continued on for what seemed like infinity, but there was a smell break in the wall on our left. George, first in our single-file line, placed his hands into it. "Found a door. It's metal."

"Think that's it?" Kiani asked.

"He said to go to the metal door," He replied. "Must be the one."

He knocked lightly on it, and we waited in anticipation of an answer. It came quickly in the form of light rustlings from behind, and then a soft voice. "Who is it?"

"It's George. We're all here."

There was a squeak of old metal, followed by a bang. Then the small metal door crept open, splaying orange light into the dark alleyway. Through the glow, as the door opened further, the bulky silhouette of Bert appeared. Rays of light reflected cruelly off the top of his head. "Quickly then," He whispered, making room for us to squeeze through. "Don't want any pensioners casting eyes. Might rush their zimmers straight to the local constable."

George went through first, ducking down to get under the door frame. I followed him through, not having to adjust my posture quite as much. It led into a narrow corridor. Bert was laid flat against the wall so that we could just barely scoot past. At the other end, over George's left shoulder, I spotted a white wooden door.

Bert closed the metal opening behind us. "Go on ahead. Don't wait for me."

In silence we marched through to the end. The corridor cast no shadows, with overcompensated lighting catching every corner. Despite that, it shed little information on what was to come next. When George opened the door, a slight draft welcomed us, and the ambient colour change dull greys and brown, illuminated with white strobes from the ceiling. Stepping inside felt like a turn to history, when my Dad used to own a large garage where he would hoard everything useless he could lay his hands on. All around were items of no apparent significance, gathering dust or mould or whatever else decided to call them home. I saw an old kettle, a treadmill with the tread missing, a pile of rotting newspaper tied up with string. On the far wall were old posters, conjoined by cut-outs of Page 3 girls. Oliver, of course, made a comment about those beneath his breath.

In the centre of the room, most things had been cleared to allow walking space. Cobwebs continued to lurk on what was remained (and I suddenly received vivid memories of searching for toys in my Dad's old garage, only to come across big terrifying spiders that sent me screaming. I hated spiders, especially big hairy ones.) Isaac was present, looking cheery as he'd been previously, and he presided over a few large tables covered by filthy old rage. There were oddly shaped things on those table, but the fabric shared no secrets.

As we walked closer, the smells of mould and ancient dust were replaced by a swathe of chemicals. It was an odd ensemble. I hoped it wasn't Isaac's deodorant, because it was pretty foul and I wouldn't have the heart to tell him.

"Glad you could make it!" Bert said, raising his voice to a joyous volume. "We were beginning to think you'd ran for the hills."

"We wouldn't miss this for the world," Kiani replied sardonically. "I skipped Blind Date to be here tonight."

"Excellent," Bert responded obliviously. "Okay, we'll make a start." He waved a hand towards Isaac, handing over the baton.

"You have been given one of the most impressive powers known to the universe," He started, resting his hands on the secretive table before him. "Tonight is the night you learn to use it. The power to morph is a complicated procedure that is easy to do."

"How does it even work?" George interrupted. "I'm no biologist, but it doesn't seem normal."

"The Andalites are a far superior race," Isaac hummed. "The Human knowledge of chemistry is at a primitive level. Andalite chemistry has seen far deeper, to the point where they can change to very structure of DNA at will. The mind is a powerful thing."

"If the Andalites are so superior, why don't they come here and give the Yeerks a good arse-kicking?" Oliver asked. It was a good question.

"The Andalites have many issues to attend to," Isaac told bluntly. "Now please, stay on topic. You have all acquired the DNA of four lifeforms commonly found in this area. The first thing we'll get you to do tonight is turn into one of those creatures."

Bert had made his way around us to stand beside one of the large tables. "Think we should do one at a time?" He asked Isaac.

"That would be for the best."

George raised a palm. "I have a question… When we turn into an animal, do we still… well, if we have a dog brain, for example, do we still think like ourselves?"

Isaac replied, "I won't go into the details, because I treasure my time, but the answer is yes. Though, you will have to compete with some instincts of the creature you've morphed, and some instincts are stronger than others. Your first task after this meeting will be to test your morphs for the purpose of handling stronger instincts. Your squirrel morph is likely to be the most impulsive."

"Got it…" George said, though he clearly hadn't. Nor had I, but like him, I was happy to go with the flow.

"Care to be the first volunteer then?" Bert asked with a grin.

George looked to the rest of us nervously. "Uh… sure."

Bert pulled out a doggy treat from his jacket and wiggled it in the air. "In that case, I'd like you to morph a dog."

"… Right here? Now?"

"Sure. I'm not holding this treat for nothing!" Bert chuckled.

"Okay," George sighed. "Here I go then."

He closed his eyes. I was close to laughing. It all seemed so ridiculous, so absurd. This was still some trick, some magicians ploy to take the piss. There was a game to it all, and we were the fools who had fallen for it.

But those thoughts were finally destroyed, once and for all. He started to shrink, inch by slow inch at first, but then faster. I watched his jeans creasing, and his hands start to disappear up into his sleeves.

And then he started to waver on the spot. He groaned lightly, and then his sleeves started to flail. He fell forward, and though I tried I couldn't catch him in time he crashed down hard on the concrete floor with a wince-inducing _thud_!

"George!" I cried out, rushing down to help him.

"Ahhh… Ahh!" His sleeves continued to sway around like it was five sizes too large. He couldn't push himself up. Blood was dripping crimson to the ground. "My face!" He shouted, but his words were distorted.

With Oliver helping me get him up, I shuddered when I saw his face. There was a deep bloodied cut in his chin, and his powerful jawline was misshapen. He'd broken his jaw.

"Oh for crying out loud." Bert huffed. He helped Oliver and me to right him, settling to have him sit on the floor.

"He's broken his jaw!" I yelped at Bert, who was pulling a tissue from his pocket to temporarily curtail the blood coming from his chin.

"I can see that," Bert confirmed. "George, just continue the morph sitting down, okay? We'll keep you steady."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" George managed to mumble. His eyes were furious with rage. If he had capable limbs, he wouldn't be sitting.

"Once you morph, your wounds will be healed," Bert explained. "Trust me."

I didn't think George would obey, but he fell silent despite his pain. Despite the blood tricking over and from his lower lip. I held my hand to his back to keep him sitting upright, and then I started to feel the fabric shifting around my splayed fingers. The skin beneath was moving, and so unnaturally.

There was a crack, and then a squelch. This sickening noises alerted me to the changes occurring to his face. The shadow of Kiani leaning over to watch did nothing to shield my eyes from the horror of what I was witnessing.

His nose was turning black and bulging outwards. His eyes were clamped shut at the time, but then he opened them. The changes stopped, and he started to whine. It didn't sound Human.

Kiani's shadow disappeared. I heard the distinct sound of vomiting off to the side.

He was hideous, a bizarre chimera of Staffy terrier and Human. Patches of discoloured hair had sprouted on a bulging Human snout. His ears had grown point, like elf ears. His eyes were wide with panic, and his expanded dog pupils made it an unnerving sight.

"Just keep going." Bert insisted.

He scrunched his eyes shut further, and the changes continued. All over his face, fur flooded in, mostly white bit with black and brown patches. His ears moved up the sides of his head (with grotesque sound-effects) until they matched the flattening top of his skull. The tips of his ears had been extending and eventually flopped over themselves. His snout had bulged further, and at the end his nose had donned the almost tarmac-like appearance of a dog nose. His lower jaw had followed it outwards, and as I inspected I could no longer see the clear area of breakage. The wound on his chin had all but gone.

His clothes sagged uselessly around him. Now more dog than man, he wouldn't need them, so I started to pull them away. A sturdy wagging tail popped out when I removed the jeans.

"Jesus bloody Christ…" Oliver gasped.

"Arf!"

Bert smiled and stood back up straight. "See? That wasn't so bad!"

Oliver lurched over, just managing to turn away quick enough not to coat George in stomach content. I wasn't feeling too great, myself.

"George! George, is that you?!" Kiani cried with panic in her voice.

"George?" I stroked at the terriers head, with so many horrible thoughts going through my own.

Bert wasn't so concerned. "George, you can speak to us. Just think of the person you want to speak to. You can do it privately or openly. Think what you want to say."

((Hello? Hello?!))

George's voice invaded our heads. My hand went over my mouth. I could hear him, like some distant echo from within my own mind… "Can you hear us?"

The Staffy looked directly at me, opened its mouth in a stupid grin and let its tongue flap out.

((Scratch me! Scratch me, Amy!))


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Amy… I think she's waking up."

I opened my eyes to a blinding light above me, and all around were heads gazing down. I must have blacked out. I had a headache.

"You okay?" It was Kiani's voice.

I rubbed at my sore temple and pushed myself up from the dusty floor. "Yeah, I'm fine." I uttered.

Bert was there. Isaac was still standing motionless behind on the tables. I heard a snuffling nose at my side, and when I turned to look the terrier stepped its front feet onto my thigh, still with that dopey dog smile on its face.

((Hey! Hey, you're awake!))

"This is too real," I groaned. "Too bloody real."

Isaac spoke up, cold and unemotional. "Now that we've all recovered, could we move this forward?"

"Hold on, feisty," Bert laughed. "I haven't even given him his treat yet!"

He waved the bone-shaped doggy treat in front of the dog, whose attention was immediately grabbed.

((Is that for me? For me?!))

"George, mate," Oliver said. "What's got into you? Stop enjoying this!"

((What's not to enjoy?!)) George retorted. ((I'm so happy! Bloody hell, that bone smells good! Give it!))

"What happened to your manners?" Bert asked humorously.

((Please! Oh, please give me the bone!))

"Better." Bert launched the bone treat across the floor, and George went barrelling after it in that graceless doggy galloping way. "Good boy!"

"Oh god!" I whined. It wasn't George. It was some travesty of nature. "Make him change back!"

((Relax, Amy,)) George said as he returned, still chewing at the treat. ((This is great! I'm so happy!))

"The domestic dog is very excitable," Bert said. "George is feeling it. It would be completely different if he morphed a squirrel."

"You're seriously having fun, mate?" Oliver asked of George.

((You have to try it! Hey, Bert, you got anymore treats?))

"No more. You got the only one, a reward for being the first volunteer."

"You want us to do it, too?" Oliver asked.

Bert laughed. "Of course! Who's next?"

I thought about it. I looked at George who was licking his lips, having scoffed down the entire treat in a short space of time. His tail was wagging. It didn't seem to go badly for him. Perhaps his jaw had been healed, as well. One thing was for certain: these Andalites were real. Surely no Human technology could come anywhere close to this.

"Make him change back," I told Bert. "Guys, we shouldn't do anything till we know we can change back."

"Yeah, right." Kiani agreed.

Bert nodded. "So very paranoid, huh. Okay then. George, why don't you change back? Just think about becoming yourself. Put that image in your mind."

"With clothes on." Isaac added sternly.

((Really? But this is so much fun!))

"Just change back, George!" I ordered. "Just so we know you can."

((Fine…)) He grumbled. He really had been enjoying himself, but at my inadvertently strict order his tail stopped wagging and he gave me the eyes of a guilty puppy-dog.

The change back was a little faster. Whether it was because he'd found how to do it, or the ecstatic dog mind had provided him with the necessary _buzz_, I couldn't tell, but his mood once more Human than dog had visibly shifted. So had his jaw, back to its natural place.

The change was no less disgusting though. Thankfully, our stomachs were already empty. Bert and Isaac were completely unfazed by it.

It was good to see him back, even if he was in very minimal clothing. He rubbed at his jawline and his chin, checked his hand and rubbed it again. "That's weird… How the bloody hell does it work?"

Isaac sighed. "If you would like an academics lesson, you'd be asking the wrong people."

"Alright, steady on." George replied.

"How was it?" Kiani asked of him.

"Being a dog? Amazing! It's like I was actually a dog! The nose is incredible. I could smell everything. Lots of chemicals in this place that don't smell great. Might be some dead rats around somewhere, too."

"You seem a little less sceptical," Bert chuckled. "Think your friends should give it a try?"

George nodded. "Sure. Oh, and you were right about the jaw thing. This would be great for hospitals."

"Sure it would be," Isaac interjected. "But for now, no. You are the privileged few, and you won't tell anybody. Not even a hospital."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Kiani huffed. "Okay, I'll give it a go."

She closed her eyes and seemed deep in concentration. A few seconds went by, and then she stopped. She got down and sat on the ground. Wise. When she closed her eyes and concentrated again, small changes began to occur. Her canines began to protrude from her lips, and her hair began to whiten and shorten.

I looked to Oliver who was stood over her, and he looked back. "Shall we?"

"Might as well." He said with a blank expression.

I sat down and slapped all the resulting dirt from my hands. The concept of what I was about to do ran through my mind, and it couldn't wholly comprehend. _I was going to become a dog?! How would it work? How would it feel? What if I couldn't turn back?_

George had done it. He was much braver than I was. I couldn't let him show me up, though.

Fuck it. Time to become somebody's pet pooch.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, like we had been told. It was hard, because I could still hear everything around me, including the shifting and squishing of bones and organs as the others changed. Their groans of horror and discomfort, too.

"You're losing, Amy." I heard George said. I didn't care, but it was his way of trying to motivate me.

Maybe he hadn't noticed, but I'd felt myself changing. It was my shoulder. They were spreading to the sides, and they quickly went past what a Human could naturally do. It didn't hurt. It just felt extremely unsettling. It felt sickening.

My fingers went from a splayed state on my lap to the small, padded doggy digits. I could feel the claws replacing my fingernail. I wanted to throw up. For a moment, the changes stopped, and I knew I'd stopped concentrate. I tried again, and the changes continued.

"Fuck me…" George gasped. "Is _this_ what it looks like? Jesus…"

I tried to respond, but what I meant to say turned into gibberish on the way out. Shifting my tongue in my mouth, I noticed how different it had become. Nothing about my face was built for complex language anymore. Just primitive woofs and growls and the occasional whine. It was time to open my eyes.

The world certainly looked different as a dog. It felt different, too. And smelled different. And the rest… I realised that I was still in a sitting position, held up by my tail like I was a tripod, with dog arms hanging uselessly in front of me. I pushed and fell forward, bounces onto four legs and struggled to relieve myself of the baggy clothing surrounding me.

The smells! They were everywhere! I lifted my snout and sniffled. The sights around me meant very little, as did the sounds. It was all about those smells.

George was right. Something smelled long dead, probably some rodent or maybe even a bird. There were a lot of strange smells accompanying it that I couldn't understand. However, I could certainly understand the smell of two other dogs. When I decided to finally utilise my eyes meaningfully, I saw two exact copies of myself nearby, sniffing at each other in areas only dogs would ever sniff.

How disgusting… I bundled over to join in.

"You guys are sick." Somebody said. Some Human male. Completely uninteresting, because I couldn't smell food coming from his direction. These two dogs were bound to be more fun! I sniffed at them, and after some curious work I came to the bizarre conclusion that everything about them was the same, smells and all!

"Hey you!"

A big Human head descended towards me! His head was bald on the top, and he was smiling. His tone was friendly. I hadn't been given attention in at least a minute.

I jumped forward as he bent down and licked at his face. He laughed and petted my head. I liked being petted. I wanted more.

"Is there a Human in there somewhere?!" The Human laughed. "Speak to me if there is, or you don't get any more pettings."

Human? In me? But I was me! I was dog!

((I think I'm getting the hang of this.))

That was a female Human's voice, but it wasn't normal. It came from inside and outside, like an echo…

Oh, wait… we were doing a morphing think. We were practising. I was actually a Human.

Damn it. I was beginning to enjoy myself.

((Hello?)) I thought towards Bert. ((Can you hear me?))

He ruffled the top of my head with a meaty hand. "There you go!"

I was much more aware of my actions at that point, and stopped the constant sniffing and begging for attention. The dog wasn't the proudest beast, and I felt I had a little too much self-respect to just let its instincts take over. Kiani voiced a similar opinion. Oliver took a little longer to get over that hurdle, but soon we'd all conquered the dog. It was time for the next stage of training.

Isaac overrode Bert's willingness to allow us more time to enjoy the excitable dog morph and told us to turn back to Human. It was much the same as becoming dog, but in reverse. No less revolting and traumatising, and I was feeling shaky afterwards. At least I managed to morph back into some limited, tight clothing. Oliver and Kiani weren't so fortunate, and both scrambled to get their old clothes back on.

All back to normal, Isaac unfurled his impatiently folded arms. "You've tried your first morph, which is excellent. This is the perfect time to remind you that not all morphs will be so easy to conquer. You will have to fight the instincts of each animal, and some are more volatile than others. When you do it again in the future, make sure there is always somebody at hand to bring you to your senses. Do not all morph simultaneously."

We confirmed our understanding with muted _yeahs _and nodding heads.

He leaned forward on one of the tables. "And can you remember the time limit?"

"Four hours?" Oliver recalled tentatively.

"Yes. Four hours. Any longer, and you will be trapped in that body until we return from wherever we may be at the time. You will never regain your old body, regardless."

Again, we nodded. We understood.

"Next, we must show you the enemy," He spoke. He pushed himself away from the table and wandered to a stool which, like the two main table, had something beneath hidden by a rag. It could have been a birdcage beneath, judging by the shape. Gently, his hands pulled away the rag.

We scooted closer for a better look as the object came into view. It was a big jar filled with a dull green jelly-like substance. There was something held static in the middle.

"Looks like a slug." Kiani commented.

But I could see that it was no ordinary slug. It was stumpy, and it had tiny little appendages. They looked like fins. The body didn't look to have the same texture as your average slug, too.

"This is a Yeerk," Isaac explained. "They all look like this with little variation. It may not look like much, but they are a very intelligent race, and they are able to control a host body almost flawlessly.

We squeezed up to see closer. Reactions among us were a little underwhelmed. "Sure looks like a slug…" George said, reflecting on what Kiani had suggested. "Got little fins there."

"Are those antennae?" Oliver asked quietly.

I nodded. "Looks like it."

Kiani stood up straight and away from the jar. She spoke to Isaac incredulously. "You're telling us that _these _are the invaders taking over the whole Earth?"

"Yes." Isaac blandly replied.

Oliver chuckled. "Doesn't look all that impressive. Think they've got self-esteem issues?"

"Take this seriously," Isaac snapped. "They are far more powerful than you believe them to be. They have conquered many races prior to ours."

"What races have they conquered?" I questioned. "Aliens as well?"

Isaac gestured towards the two much larger tables still covered in rage. "We'll show you."

I suddenly had a very bad feeling, looking at those tables. In that instant, I knew that it wasn't just old machinery and tools cluttering them up.

Was I really just smelling dead rats and chemicals?

In one quick swipe, he pulled off the two rags.

"Oh, fuck!" Oliver yelped. "Fuckin' hell!"

Kiani covered her mouth and scurried backwards. She was about to throw up again, amidst whines of pure horror. George didn't move or say a word, but turned a shocking white.

I put a hand over my mouth and nose, bombarded by the mixed scents of death and preserving chemicals. "Oh god, oh god…"

Everybody apart from George must have backed away several feet. Bert jumped in to calm us, but that wasn't going to happen. Turning into animals? Fine. Slug with fins? Fine.

Huge bladed lizard and clawed toothy maggot? Not fine.

"These are the two most common alien hosts the Yeerks have brought to Earth." Isaac said, as if his words would register with any of us.

Oliver was almost laughing. Disbelief, fear, unknowing. It was driving him to hair-pulling crazed laughter. "You're taking the piss," He mumbled. "You're taking the piss…"

"I'm not doing this," Kiani growled. She was refusing to even look at them. "Oli. Oli! We're going. We're going right now."

"What the fuck are _they_?!" Oliver asked to nobody in particular. Then he indeed started to laugh. Kiani tugged roughly at his shirt.

I took another hard look at the two monsters, and with it came another waft of the smell mixture. I hoped to God they didn't smell like that when alive.

"George," I spoke. He still had hardly moved, but he looked to me when I addressed him. "We should go, too. This is fucked up."

Isaac was quick to stop us with the bang of a briefcase on the table beside the lizard monster. It was a black briefcase just like the previous one we'd received. "If you leave, you forfeit your right to this. There is one-and-a-half million pounds in this room, and it's all yours, but only if you agree to continue."

That stopped us all in our tracks (aside from George who was on no track to begin with.) I stared at the briefcase, placed just behind the dead body of the horrible monster.

I would never have to worry about money again. Never.

"We can't do fuck all with your money." George said, finally coming back to life.

I followed his logic quickly. "He's right. We can't bank it or spend it. We can't show a contract. The money's not usable!"

"This is some setup," Oliver asserted. "It's a load of rubbish!"

"Let us out of here, you creeps!" Kiani squeaked.

Isaac groaned, and it almost turned to a yell of frustration. "So paranoid! Do you want me to get it into your hands another way? Is that what you want? I have to hold your hand through it all?"

Before he could continue, Bert took the reins. "We can arrange another, legal way for you to receive the money. Would that settle the issue?"

"Not really." I said.

"If it makes you feel any better," Isaac growled. "These creatures are only here to show you what you may witness in your tasks. You should never be in a position where you have to get close. Your job is to _observe Yeerk activity._ We're not asking you to give them all hugs and kisses!"

Kiani and Oliver had calmed down somewhat. We all exchanged uncertain glances, still shaken and on the verge of breakdowns.

But that offer was not something you just refused.

"So, what are they?" I asked.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

I couldn't stop myself from looking over my shoulder, up and then down the mildly-busy street. It must have made me look suspicious. _Put on an act, Amy. Be relaxed, calm._

But after selected putting in my new PIN number and selecting to see my account balance in the partially-hidden cash machine, I couldn't just act away my true feelings.

Almost two million quid. Right there. Free for me to use. I stepped closer, hiding the screen from any passers-by. I then worked to withdraw fifty pounds, with no idea what I'd use it for. I guess I could do with a food shop.

I snatched greedily at the card when the machine spat it out. Every moment of the meeting with the cash machine was fraught with paranoia that something wouldn't be right, that we'd get hunted down by the police or some criminal gang. But everything seemed legitimate. For all of us. The shared account was for us all, as well as Bert. He never went into details about how he'd make it all seem normal to the authorities and the bank, but he assured us that it was so.

Explaining it to friends and family would be the biggest challenge. It was probably best that they just didn't know. Or I could say that we won the lottery and never show them the lottery ticket.

Yes… That should work.

But what if they told local news? I could end up on the tele. Somebody would see that and find something amiss.

Best just not to tell them. Keep this a secret. Spend heartily, but wisely.

Christ… I was a millionaire for crying out loud!

A millionaire!

I slid the bank notes into my purse and strolled nonchalantly away from the cash machine and back onto Fore Street. Nobody would be able to tell, but I was shaking.

Was it all worth it?

I had a fleeting image of those two monsters, alive, looming over me. They would slice me to little pieces! I'd been paid to arrange my own death sentence! Those horrible alien monsters would have me for breakfast.

Maybe they were watching me, right now. I looked around every corner and alleyway as I wandered down the street. They were around somewhere, I knew it. Just like the Yeerks.

Just like Humans who had been infested. I became acutely aware of every set of eyes as I walked towards Boots. Some people carried on past paying little notice, and other looked directly back at me. Who was one of them? Who wasn't? Who was about to be?

Did they know about me? Did I look suspicious? The way I was protecting that cash machine… somebody must have thought it was suspicious.

Anybody could have seen me. Anybody!

To rein my back to reality, there came a buzzing from my jeans pocket. It was my phone, and it sang a simple jingle to bring my attention. I scanned the vicinity again, but then took a deep breath and reminded myself that paranoia was getting the better of me. I continued walking as I answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello! It's your mum."

I smiled, and the street around me became much brighter. "Hi Mum. How are you?"

"I'm doing fine. Just fine. How has your week been?"

I chuckled lightly to myself. "Oh, you know. Normal and boring as ever. I've got an assignment due next week so I'm bogged down in papers."

"Well, you've done well do far," She replied. "Have you found time to take a break from it? You're always working ever so hard."

"Now and then. I've been doing rehearsals for _Edward Stone_… but I guess that's not exactly a break."

"You enjoy it. That's what matters."

I smiled. "I guess you're right."

"Well, I'm actually calling because we're going to the museum at the weekend. The family. Were you going to come home on next Friday?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I'll be coming home."  
"Would you like to come with us? We'll be going on Saturday morning, quite early. I know how much you like a lie-in."

"I'm never in bed past ten!" I defended with a laugh.

"I used to get water poured over my head if I was still in bed at eight." Mum countered. I'd heard it almost every weekend I'd gone home, so I giggled when I heard it again.

"Yeah, right. Sure, Mum," I replied. "I don't know, I've never really liked that museum."

"If we get six going," She said. "We get two tickets for free. It's a deal they have on this weekend."

I sighed. Typical that she would guilt me into going. I supposed that it was genuine, this time. "Yeah, okay then. I'm not paying, though."

She giggled at the other end of the phone. "Since when have you _ever _paid?"

"That's not fair. I pay for lots of things we do."

"You're a student," She said. "You don't even pay for your own socks."

I rolled my eyes. "Fair."

"Anyway darling, I've got to get this laundry out on the line."

"Okay, Mum. Always so busy, huh?"

She ignored the playful jab. "You take care of yourself, and we'll see you on Friday."

"See you next Friday, Mum," I replied. "Lots of love."

"Lots of love, darling. Drive safe!"

"I will," I laughed. She always told me to drive safe. "Bye."

"Goodbye, Amy."

I put the phone back into my pocket. I was in the lower end of Fore Street, approaching Boots. I just needed a couple items. I was getting hungry, too, so my eyes took a particular interest in the Cornish Pasty shop on the other side of the road.

But behind all the normal thoughts…

Would it be so easy when I saw her real face?

It was strange having everything normal over the backdrop of a world entirely changed. Mum's phone call had taken the edge of my paranoia for sure, but all thoughts that drifted through me were now tinged with suspicion, tainted by the images of those monsters and the dread of knowing that what I'd been told was true.

How long could I keep this up? Was I selected merely because I could keep a straight face? What if this part was beyond me? It's like I'd been given the role of Juliet in the West End and I couldn't quite remember the cues.

What if I started to change into a pigeon right now?

_Oh, god, don't think of the pigeon! Just don't! Not the dog or the squirrel, either!_

I locked my thoughts on Boots. I had to. I was there now, and so I walked in through the doors to the smells of self-grooming products. The perfect place to immerse myself. I needed toothpaste, firstly, but maybe a new set of straighteners and a brush… A few other things would be nice.

I used it to drown. The retail therapy was perfect, but by the time I'd filled a basket and gotten to the till, I realised that I'd gone a little overboard.

The cashier, coated like a mannequin in beauty products, smiled to me. "That will be three-hundred-and-ten-pounds-fifty, please."

I almost choked. Had I really piled that much into my basket? It didn't _look _like much.

Of course, by this point it was too late. I was too proud to not buy it all. "Sure." I reached into my purse and pulled up my new bank card. The cashier swiped it through the machine.

Shortly afterwards, I was lugging a very expensive plastic bag back up Fore Street.

_Three-hundred pounds? I didn't have even half that in my own account!_

I began to feel very guilty. Then, once again, despite the oft-helpful retail therapy, I was brimming with paranoia. I reached my car in the car park at the top of Fore Street and heaved myself into the driver's seat, dropping the bag on the passenger's side. I breathed heavily, and my eyes darted from the wing to rear-view mirror and back again.

Nobody following. Nobody that I could see.

I rubbed at my face with firm hands and cupped them to my mouth. What the bloody hell was I even doing?

I had to check. If somebody was suspecting me, I had to know. But how?

Oh, wait. Could I…?

I stepped back out of my car and locked the door behind me. The car park was busy, so I had to zigzag my way through to the side of the brick-walled garage that guarded me from view of the main street. There were two large green bins, their lips ajar with the angular shimmering of black rubbish bags just barely contained. They were clumped closely together beside a big ugly ventilation unit, and there was a dirty, litter-ridden passageway on the other side.

I looked once, looked twice. There was an old lady way off in the distance. I saw no security cameras. I walked into the dark passageway, scuttling over empty abandoned crisps packets and crushed tinnies. The rays of sunlight were blocked by the brick walls. I was invisible to the world.

Crouching down beside a door that looked that it hadn't been used in years, I held my breath and tried to regain my clear mind. With once last glance to the car park I'd arrived from, I decided that I would go ahead.

I closed my eyes and thought of the pigeon. I saw its beady eyed, its orange-red feet and it's drab grey feathers. I pictured the way it bobbed its head back and forth as it walked. I heard the strange cawing noises they would make.

The fear struck again, and I forced myself into the nearest corner with sudden panic. I looked to the car park again. Not a soul.

When I started to concentrate, I felt the changes taking place. Beneath my clothing was a distinctive itching, and it spread from my back at first, and then all over my arms and legs and up my neck like it was forming a cocoon. What came next was awful. My face contorted, bulging outwards, and my skull altered, eye socket squirming to the sides of my face.

I moaned uneasily, and I was on the verge of stopping. It was a hideous sensation, and I thanked any and all gods that I wasn't sitting before a mirror. I was sure I would have passed out. Then who knows? Maybe I'd be stuck as a disgusting hybrid forever.

But that wasn't the case. I continued the change, beginning to shrink down to the ground, feeling a sense of weightlessness as my bones became less dense. Some of my fingers went entirely numbed. They'd vanished, and what remained was being melted into one single digit that carried the ends of emerging wings. I stopped looking.

When the cracking and the shuffling noises stopped, it felt safe to open my eyes again. But, my god, was it a whole new world.

I could see everything in such detail. Even in the dark, it was like I'd been given a whole new set of eyes, as if my old ones had become worn and useless. As I looked back out towards the car park, I got a sense of just how incredible it was. It was a thing of utter beauty, or if would have been without dirty litter delineating my path.

On tiny little legs I moved, scuttling forwards to the light and the car park. The images I could see were like a series of still images as I bobbed my head backwards and forwards in time to my steps. I caught all the minute movements around me, like insects or pieces of rubbish blowing in the slight breeze.

I emerged into the sunlight. The place looked safe, so my focus went to what was on the ground. There were a few specks of something… I pecked at them, but it wasn't food, so I wasn't interested.

Then… ooh! Crumbs!

I got delightfully busy with a small scattering of pastry crumbs. Just what I'd been looking for!

I'd hoovered up most of it when another pigeon dropped in. Hurried, I scampered over a wider arc to take up more space so that this new bird wouldn't steal what I'd earned. These were my crumbs! I needed them all!

I heard new noises! They were loud and booming! The ground thumped enough to spook me, and from around the enormous building-sized rubbish bins loomed four mobile tree trunks! Legs! Oh Christ!

Abandon crumbs!

I waddled away as fast as my Twiglet legs would go, but they were catching up. Suddenly, out burst my two stumpy wings, and I launched myself forward with effort, flapping those feathery sheets wildly enough to give me the acceleration I needed.

And up I went, zooming up to the sky, the wind rushing over me. I reached over the streetlights and past the roofs of the buildings. The town landscape rose up to greet me, a splattering of greys and whites. Other birds whizzed by in the distance, of little value to me. They weren't the right shape to be a threat, but I kept my wits about me nonetheless.

Down below, Humans strolled around oblivious. They seemed so pitiful from this angle. Just slow multi-coloured blobs. The houses and shops of the middle of town were just perches, some of them occupied by other birds just like myself.

I didn't spend much time in the air, because I didn't need to. What I needed was a place to seek food. I hovered back towards the main street and a set of cables sprawling from a corner shop. I steadied, slowed my speed and gently attached. There were three other pigeons there, too. It felt safe, even though I was much closer to the Humans and cars that went on by beneath us.

I lost track for a while. I was busy either preening myself or searching the ground for something to appease my unending hungry, all the while dodging the scary Human legs that cared little of my presence but nor would attempt to avoid crashing into me. I found a whole chip in a particularly lucky moment, having just been discarded with a whole crumpled paper bag. That was the highlight of a desperate, frenzied search.

Sometime later, something happened. I had no idea what, though, and it seemed that nobody did. A group of probably around twenty of us were searching for anything edible on a raised patch of grass bordered by a stone wall. Then, we all flew. The whole lot of us, and I followed the herd over the big grey-white square perches, flapping manically to keep up, not even knowing what I was flying from or to!

As a group, we landed on a roof not far from the bottom of the street. I took my place on the edge of the wall to get a good look at the ground below, where Humans were still passing by, even as the Sun had started to dip toward the horizon.

For the moment, my hunger had been satiated. It was near time to find shelter, anyway, so I wouldn't spend much more energy, especially flying. So I just watched, and something about doing that just intrigued me.

A blonde-haired Human female appeared as if from the brick wall directly below me. It was a doorway, where they often would arrive from.

He fingers played with something at her chest: A small leathery case, dark brown in colour and with a number of barely-identifiable patterns. When she peeled open the casing with colourful fingernails, I could see notes inside. She pulled them out, flicked through them…

That was money. I recognised that…

Money…

Oh, shit! What if somebody had seen me?!

Why am I on a roof?!

The ground below me span! I was so high up! _Why _was I so high up?!

I stumbled away from the edge with a flap of my wings and made sure I was far away from any fall. Had I completely lost myself? Is this what Isaac and Bert meant? The pigeon mind was so hectic and driven… What time was it?!

I started to morph back, and to my relief I still had time. How much, I couldn't tell precisely. From on top of an old roof, there aren't many ways to find out. I lay on my back, barely clothed as the evening set in. Eventually, I found the strength to find a ladder down. I drove to my flat and didn't sleep a second that night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

There was a mutual agreement that everything that we called familiar was likely to be bugged. The Rising Sun, the auditorium, the university, and even our own rented homes. There was no proof, but in times of space aliens, animal-changing technology and evil invasive slug parasites, we couldn't rely on logic to guide us.

So the next time we met, we agreed to go somewhere that no university student would ever dare set foot.

"Three-fifty for a chicken salad?!" Oliver gasped, dropping the package back onto the shelf. "I'm never coming to Waitrose again. What a rip-off."

Needless to say, our shopping basket was empty. We were using it as a ploy to ward off suspecting eyes before we went to the quiet coffee shop to discuss, but all it was doing was giving away the fact the we were just scrubby, tight-fisted students.

"Oh, this is pointless," George grumbled. "Can't we just go sit down?"

"This is where we'll be shopping from now on," Kiani replied. "We aren't poor, money-grubbing layabouts anymore."

Oliver shushed her. "Anybody could be listening."

She rolled her eyes. "Everybody in here her hearing aids. The only things they hear are memories of the fifties."

"Let's just get some coffee." I insisted. There was no point continuing with an empty basket.

We dropped the basket by one of the many cashiers and headed for the far corner of the supermarket. There was a small Waitrose café there, where they did coffees and teas and lunches. It was mostly sandwiches and cakes. Soups, too, for those without teeth. They were popular.

The table tucked away in the corner was perfect for our purposes, so we snapped it up before a middle-aged couple could reach it. I got a funny look from the big balding guy, but they moved on. Oliver took a detour and grabbed today's edition of The Daily Mail.

"Great choice…" Kiani commented without sincerity when he dropped it between us.

"What's the problem?"

She huffed. "Daily Mail? That's what my Dad reads."

Oliver stared at her blankly, and then shrugged. "Congratulations, I guess." He examined the first page, and then turned to the next when the main headline provided no interest.

He was the only one of us not to look a little… different. The shock of _earning _so much money had clearly not scared us away from dipping into our newfound wealth. I had started using an expensive new perfume, and changed my lipstick. Kiani seemed to glow even more than she used to, and I think it was the make-up that did it, and I suspected she's gotten her hair specially treated. George was wearing a very tight pink shirt. _Very _tight. It was quality fabric, and that was easy to tell. He had new leather shoes, too. Oliver seemed to be wearing the same clothes he'd worn the last time I'd seen him.

"Anybody done it again?" George asked quietly. He didn't need to clarify.

"No. I don't know if I want to." Kiani said.

I shook my head when he looked at me. "No."

Oliver shook his head, too, eyes still glued to the paper.

George stared at him curiously. "Mate, what are you looking for?"

"Anything." He replied, and left it at that.

"What, you think they're going to put it in the Daily Mail? You're having a laugh."

"Okay then," Oliver dropped the paper. "Then you tell me what we have to look for. They aren't putting on parades, either, you plank."

Kiani put a hand on his arm. "Hey, Oli. Relax."

He rubbed at his temple. "Sorry. I haven't slept."

It wasn't hard to tell. From what I knew of Oliver, he'd never failed to smile on any occasion, be it at a party or a funeral. He was a happy kind of guy, and optimistic, something that he always managed to flood his acting roles with. Now, nothing of that was present. His eyes were baggy, and his posture slumped. For a big, jolly guy, it was hard to watch.

"We need to find what to look for," I suggested. "Or just think about what it is we need to spot."

"Well, we don't know." George shrugged.

Kiani bit her lip and looked down at the table. Then she quickly glanced around behind, and then back at us. "Amy, didn't you mention something about coordinates? Didn't Bert and Isaac give you something?"

I thought about it. Yes, I remembered telling them after our first meeting with the mysterious pair that I'd been given three sets of coordinates. "Yeah, they did," I replied, before reaching into my purse and unzipping a rarely used pocket on the inside. Surely enough, the ruffle of a loose piece of paper came to my fingers. I pinched it between my digits and pulled it out, unfolding it. "This is it. Three places."

Kiani opened her hand to me, and I gave her the paper. She inspected it. "Anybody have a map somewhere?"

"They sell them here, I think," George said. "If not, there' Smith's just down the street."

"Just don't draw attention…" Oliver mentioned coldly.

George got up from the table. His gleaming new shoes came into full view. They suited him well. "I'll go get one. I'm guessing it's around this area."

Kiani got up as well. "Want a coffee? I'm paying."

"Latte, please. Thanks."

"Cappucino." Oliver said, eyes still trailed downwards.

"Same for me, thanks." I said, smiling to her.

George and Kiani left. Oliver wasn't very talkative, so I left him to peruse the national paper. From what I could see, reading upside-down, there was nothing alien-related.

Those big, ugly monsters… Where would they be hiding?

I could have been a pigeon forever!

Was I being watched?

I looked around, snapping my head from right to left, a deep chill over my back like a damp coat. Old ladies nattering on a nearby table. A man in a tweed jacket pushing a half-filled trolley. Two Waitrose workers talking over the nearest cashier.

"What is it?!" Oliver asked, alerted.

"Nothing. Nothing, I just… Don't worry about it."

He was gazing at me, eyes narrowed. "See somebody?"

I shook my head and tried to seek out Kiani. I wanted my hot drink. "No. I'm just jumpy."

I tried to control myself until the others returned, realising that jerking around and watching strangers with wide, panicked eyes wasn't keeping my cards to my chest. I tapped my fingers on my lap and bit compulsively at my lips. No matter who I thought was watching, I wouldn't turn and I wouldn't see. I was just a normal young adult, just out to enjoy just a coffee with friends.

Kiani returned with our drinks, and I heartily indulged. George wasn't far behind, and with him he brought a bright orange booklet. He slapped it down on the table. "Got one."

Oliver flinched as it hit the table. "Want to draw any more attention, mate?"

"Jesus, Oli," George groaned. "Just relax, eh? What's going to draw more attention: Being normal or acting like we're hiding something?"

Oliver shrugged and pushed aside his finished newspaper, giving George the space to open up the densely folded map of the local area. He pulled a small red biro out of his pocket. "Got the co-ords?"

Kiani pushed forward the small crumpled piece of paper, keeping her eyes over George's shoulders. Still nobody hanging around suspiciously, it seemed. George got to work, and I imagined that he was using whatever skills he'd picked up at Scouts no less than five years ago when he'd go orienteering on the moors. I would have absolutely no chance. It was just a vaguely recognisable picture with a numbered border to me.

"Right…" He mumbled over the red pen he'd stuck between his lips. "First one is here, right in the middle of town." He jabbed a finger at a dense collection of buildings surrounded by roads.

"Fore Street," Kiani mentioned. "Which building is that, though?"

"That's Primark," I said. "I thought you'd have known that."

Kiani huffed and gave me a sarcastic smile. "Sure, because I shop at Primark…"

"So they want us to spy on Primark?" Oliver asked incredulously. "Spy on Primark as pigeons and squirrels…"

"I think we have to apply common sense to that one," I suggested. "What else is there?"

George had already begun to search for spot number 2. His precise finger traced upwards from the bottom axis and nestled against a napkin he'd laid to indicate where it crossed the other. "This one here. Looks like the Country Club."

Swimming pools. Spas. A fitness gym and beauty parlour. There was a small golf course, too. The place was popular among the populace of the town, mostly middle and upper class who wanted to spend excess cash. Perhaps I would become more familiar with it soon. The beauty parlour had always enticed me, but the extortionate prices drove me away each time. Not such an issue anymore…

"And number three," George muttered to himself at jotting a red star on the Country Club. He repeated the process again, and this time he was narrowing down on a place not jammed into the middle of a busy town. He arrived at the last set of coordinates. "This place. Anybody recognise that?"

We all hunched in for a closer look. The area on the map was pretty barren, with a small section of woodland surrounded by open land. There didn't seem to be anything distinctive about the place.

"Just looks like a field." Kiani stated, perplexed.

George took his finger away to draw upon the place a red cross. Then he started to consider the surrounding landscape, his eyes straining.

"Ah, that might be why," He said. "It's an Army training ground. The whole area is. Looks to be about… two or three square miles in size."

Oliver was confused. "Just a bunch of fields?"

"It's a shooting range." George explained.

"Probably the one we should use a squirrel for." Kiani suggested.

I nodded. "Or the dog."

"Or we should stick to Primark and the golf course," Oliver groaned. "I know where I'd rather go."

"You're right," George said. "I think Army shooting range is a bit too much. We could go check out Primark. What is it we're looking for again?"

"Unusual activity. Whatever that means." I recalled.

Kiani laughed. "We'll need more than one notebook for that."

"I don't think we should take any notebooks." George said.

"I wasn't being serious, of course."

George sipped from his coffee and began folding away the map. "So how about this… We go to Primark on Tuesday after lectures. While we're there we can separate, maybe do some shopping. We'll take our time and just keep our eyes open for anything strange going on."

"Strange like evil bladed lizard men." Oliver added.

I groaned and covered my eyes with a rubbing hand. "Please, don't even mention that stuff."

George opened his palms to the table. "Does that plan sound good?"

"Half-a-million quid for shopping at Primark," Kiani considered. "Think we could ask them for a payrise?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

I still couldn't quite believe that we were doing it. In a way, it felt terrible that, if it weren't for the pleasant fortune we'd suddenly accrued, we'd have just pretended it had never happened and carried on with our normal lives. Alas, with a full wallet, I was scanning the walls of jumpers in Primark, umming and ahhing at the purple woollen top that had taken my fancy.

Primark wasn't the normal place for a millionaire, but it wasn't _bad. _Items here just never lasted more than a week. It was perfect for last-minute panic purchases for unimportant events. A students' wonderland, essentially. If it wasn't missing a fancy dress section it would have been perfect.

But the cheap fabrics and discount sock baskets were a terrible mask for what I was really feeling. Retail therapy was not going to remove those monsters from my mind, or the fear that my family could be in the worst kind of danger. I was going home at the weekend, and I would indulge in spending quality time with them, even if it was at a dingy old museum.

Maybe those monsters were lurking behind the very wall I was gazing at, salivating at the opportunity to cleave at my throat and chew the skin from my face…

I subtly slapped at my own face. _Snap out of it, Amy._

I had a job to do. We were all there, spread through the store looking at various items. It had been an hour, and my legs were getting tired. The alluring scent of new clothes had become indistinguishable. I was heavily bored, and I'd seen nothing more suspicious than a damp spot on some guy's trousers.

In order to blend in, I had to show some genuine interest in the clothes. Fortunately, I'd found a black faux-fur coat that I rather liked. Thirty quid. Clearly no quality to it, and probably produced in some dirty Chinese factory, but it looked nice from a distance.

_Ooh, and that shirt isn't so bad! _

I unhooked the hangar from the rail and turned it to see the plain white back. The design on the front was of a dog with a humorous caption, and that was enough for me to like it. The dog reminded me of Douglas. Twelve pound, as well, cosily nestled at the shallowest depths of my budget.

"Looks nice."

George's voice shocked me, and my handbag almost came loose from my shoulder. I readjusted the strap. "I quite like it. Needed a new shirt, anyway."

He leaned in slightly. "Seen anything?"

"Not yet," I replied. "Somebody was yelling at a worker about a refund, and some boy pulled down an entire rail of jeans, but apart from that…"

"Not a Scooby." He said.

"Exactly. When are we calling it a day, eh?"

He shrugged and looked down at the five-set of underwear he'd found. "As soon as I pay for this? Oliver wants to go to Oggy Oggy after this, and I admit to feeling peckish right now."

I smiled as I saw just what he was buying. "Those are very bright…"

"What's wrong with them?"

I giggled. "Oh, nothing. I think the pink ones really suit you."

"Alright, Stefani," He grumbled. "I'll keep that mocking compliment in mind when I get all snug into them."

"Stop your whining and go tell Kiani that we're done here," I said, amused. "We'll go get some food."

He left to inform the others and pay for his charismatic boxer shorts. Under the impression we'd be leaving, I headed for the changing rooms to check my new purchases for size. The queue was substantial, especially so for a weekday. I took my place in the line, where I had a pretty good view of the line of curtains that people shunted in and out of.

It wasn't long before Kiani joined me. She had a pair of trousers in hand, and she quickly scuttled up to me. "Hi, Amy! Fancy seeing you here!"

I blinked at her, flummoxed. "You knew I was here…"

"Shh…" She hissed, glancing around suddenly. "I think it's better if people don't see us always hanging around together. You and George, maybe. But us?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with it," I replied. "Anyway, there's no point now. Might as well act, you know… normal."

"Think we'll ever be normal?" She huffed a laugh.

Aware of our surroundings, I said, "Sure. We're normal right now."

"… Whatever." She sighed and folded her arms, trousers looping over one arm.

I gathered from her further silence that she too had noticed nothing unusual in the shop. We engaged in some light conversation about the night out we'd shared a couple weeks back at Embassy, the biggest clubhouse in the area. No doubt we'd have some interesting nights there to come, but there were other matters at hand that were about to become terrifyingly apparent.

"That's weird…"

I was distracted from my dedicated blank stare at a selection of scarfs. "Hm? What is?"

I followed her gaze. She was looking over the shoulder of the lady in front of us, towards the line of curtains that hid the changing cubicles. "Somebody just went into the one at the far end."

"Yes?"

"There was already somebody in there."

I shrugged. "You must have missed her coming out."

"No, I've been watching it the whole time."

I thought about it for a second. Then, I laughed. "You can't serious think that… there? Come on, Ki."

She huffed and whipped her black hair. "Just keep watching."

Not wanted to seem overly sceptical, I watched the far set of curtains. There was a member of staff standing beside it providing some crowd control and collecting unwanted hangars. The other staff member at the entrance to the changing area was letting people in one-by-one as cubicles became free.

The curtain of the last cubicle fluttered, and out stepped a girl with flowing blonde hair. She handed a couple hangars over to the staff and walked off.

"I think that answers your question." I told Kiani.

She looked a little spooked, and that surprised me. "That wasn't the girl that went in…"

A blonde-haired lady holding a new pair of high heels and a yellow top was next in line. She showed the clothes to the worker, who smiled brightly and indicated with a hand to the final cubicle. The other staff member beside it helped to point it out, and the lady wandered in, disappearing behind the curtains.

Our position in the queue had gradually been moving, and we were now second in line with nothing but a little old gran blocking our view, and she must have been only four feet tall.

That old gran eventually found another cubicle, but we hoped to high heaven that we weren't called in any time soon. We needed to see…

The lady that came out wore a yellow top and the exact same high heeled shoes she went in with. She handed a hangar to the member of staff and strolled towards and past us. Thankfully, she didn't notice us gawking.

It wasn't the same woman. Not unless she'd aged twenty years and died her hair a dark brunette.

"Excuse me?"

I jumped when the worker at the entrance addressed me. "Uh… oh! Sorry…"

She beamed a smile. "That changing room is free." She pointed down the short corridor. The other girl pointed to the curtain second from the end.

"Sure…" I muttered.

The girl cocked her head. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah!" I replied, attempting to regain my casual tone. I think I pulled it off. "Thank you."

I stepped into the short corridor, with five changing rooms on one side all blocked off by thick black curtains. The first three were occupied. I eyed up the girl at the end, who was similarly locked onto me.

"This one here!" She chirped helpfully. She stepped forward and raised her arm. It blocked off my path to the fifth curtain, and urged me into the fourth. I accepted the push and entered, swooshing the curtain over my head.

Did I really doubt it? Seriously? After all that had happened over the last few days, I scoffed at the idea that aliens could be using the changing rooms? I'd never scoff at anything again. Ever.

_Get a grip, Amy. Think of something._

Whatever it was, I was right next door to it. It was separate from me by less than an inch of cubicle wall. There was a gap, maybe three inches tall, from it to the floor.

_Could I…?_

It was stupid. _I _was stupid for even thinking it. But I had to know. I had to know what was going on behind that wall.

_Maybe the monsters are there._

I put my unworn clothes on the hook. I'd lost interest in them entirely. Instead, I placed my ear to the wall of the fifth room. I couldn't hear anything. Nobody was in there yet.

Curiosity, by this point, had won me over. I squatted and got down onto my hands and knees and dropped my head sideways. From here, I could see…

Black fabric? I twisted my head and looked in the opposite direction. I could see the socked feet of the person in changing room three. Changing room five's floor was blocked off.

Yes, something was definitely going on here. We'd found our _unusual activity. _

Still, nobody had entered it. In the distance I could hear an unfamiliar voice complaining that there was a cubicle unused. It only helped to raise my nosiness.

I ripped my new black coat from its hangar. Looking up, there was a gap just below the ceiling that wasn't blocked by anything. I threw the coat over, and I heard it thump down on the floor of the fifth cubicle, right beside the wall.

I was about to engage in utter madness. I knew it too well. But I had to. I needed to know!

I closed my eyes and concentrated on a fluffy, furry tail. I pictured beady little eyes and a sniffly little nose. I saw myself clutched to a tree, aiming for nuts or anything else I could dig my rodent teeth into.

The squirrel was becoming a part of me. Then half of me. Then most of me.

The tingling at the base of my spine became a sensation of elongation. The sprouting of fur all down my body to my emerging tail was incredibly itchy, as it criss-crossed the fibres of the clothing that sagged around my whole body. My teeth adjusted horrible, many shrinking but the front four mutating and stretching to become the horrible twin-pincers that made me rodent. I could feel my eye sockets moving sideways, and I didn't dare open my eyes to see the once complete world split in two.

Entombed in clothing, I felt safe. My mind became a nest of anxiety, even in the dark space, and I could only imagine the sense of fear I might receive at the moment I came out of hiding.

Eventually, the changes stopped. I was squirrel.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

To my infinite relief, I was still encased in clothing when I opened my eyes, with only a crack of light shining through what I assumed to be my collar. The squirrel mind was tameable, but I didn't know for how long.

((Kiani,)) I thought directly. ((Don't panic, but I've turned into a squirrel.))

I heard nothing in return. We knew that such a conversation could only go one way. Nevertheless, I still had to warn her.

((I'm just going to take a look in that changing room. Uh… okay, if you're in a changing room, could you cough or sneeze loudly?))

_Cough-cough!_

((Okay, you can hear me,)) I said. ((Cough again if you're in the first one?))

A few seconds… nothing.

((Second?))

_Cough-cough!_

Good. She wasn't having a panic attack. That was a positive start. Though, maybe she'd be more worried about _me _having such a problem.

((If things go a tits-up, I'll run through to your changing room. Maybe you could put me in your handbag and we can get out of here.))

_A-choo!_

I had an escape plan, and that gave me the reassurance I needed to go ahead. This thought-speech thing was really bloody useful!

I crawled tentatively forward, breaching the collar of my shirt. Golden light shone onto my head as I came out, and suddenly the squirrel became much more aware. I froze, and deliberately so. After the pigeon experience, I knew I would have to take it slow to keep control. For now, I still felt in-control.

Ahead of me I saw the black fabric that draped over the gap beneath the cubicle wall. I pounded forward in the galloping squirrel motion, revealing myself entirely from my crumpled clothing. I sniffed at the air and twitched my alert squirrel ears. I sensed nothing from that room, so I moved again, passing beneath the wall and pressing my head to the fabric.

I bumped into something soft. Peering further beneath the draping fabric, I realised that it was my new coat that I'd thrown over, just where I wanted it to be. I jumped in and dug under folds and creases, once again burying myself to be unseen.

My head popped up, but just barely. Now I could see through a slit of the clothing, and could inspect most of the changing room. Through weird squirrel eyes I saw nothing but the ordinary space. I saw two hooks on the wall, the still curtain, and a tiny bench.

As I continued to inspect, I could find no visual clues that something was amiss. However, there was the faintest scent that my squirrel brain couldn't place…

Then there was movement! My legs splayed outwards and I became still as a statue. The squirrel in me felt danger looming, and my muscles were tensing, getting ready to dash. The curtains wavered and bulged. Somebody was coming in!

_Control it, Amy! Control that bloody squirrel!_

Huge legs stomped in, a big pair of white trainers booming just inches from the edge of my coat. The Human closed the curtain behind her. When I looked directly upwards, I could see the flaring nostrils and the tips of eyebrows. I ducked back a little further, so that I could not see the person's face. If I could see her, she could see me.

I was just able, however, to see that she'd brought in a pair of jeans and a white shirt. She lifted them out of my sights, but I heard the clinking of hangars landing on hooks. This person didn't start removing items of clothing though, but instead turned to the far wall, facing away from the other changing rooms.

Seconds past of just her standing there, almost aimlessly…

But then a low rumble hit, barely noticeable but definitely there. I saw part of the wall turned to black, the mahogany becoming shadowed as it turned away from the light. It was a doorway!

The huge beast walked inside, and quickly disappeared into darkness. I was left gaping at this dreadful, secret hole in the wall. With the opening of the door, the smell I'd experienced earlier became stronger. I still couldn't think of what it was.

_Cough-cough!_

((I'm okay, Ki! Just a little longer.)) I assured her. She must have been getting worried.

From the darkness, another Human arrived. This one wore very little clothing, and was clearly not the same person. She stepped inside the changing room, and instantly the opening in the wall began to close up to become inconspicuous once again. I watched the woman's shoes before she turned to face the hooks and took them off one at a time. She started to put on the trousers that previous person had brought in.

((You were right,)) I told Kiani. ((This is it. I've just seen them open a secret door in the wall. One went in and somebody else came out. I couldn't see what was in the door…))

The shirt went on to a couple light grunts, which sounded like terrifying barks to my easily-startled ears. Then the woman started to put her shoes back on. Once she left, I would scurry back to demorph and get my own clothes back on.

Then the shoes turned. They faced directly at me! A moment of realisation hit me, and I didn't know whether to freeze or dash for safety.

Too late! The coat around me crumpled under the pressure of strong fingers! I gripped on with determined claws, managing to keep hold as the garment was hoisted carelessly from the floor.

I couldn't run, and I couldn't jump! The squirrel implored me to freeze, to stay hidden for as long as I could! Even as a huge, trunk-like arm swooped below me like a subway train clattering through a dark tunnel. I felt it brush my tail!

I clambered upwards, still entrenched in darkness as I felt the space tighten around me. I heard another swooping noise as arm number two dove into its respective sleeve.

Light! I saw it and it tumble over the collar of the coat just as it trapped the long hair of its holder. I rolled down, but only a few inches. It was dark again, but for a long strip of light above me, where I saw two giant hands rescue the hair from its collar dungeon and drape it over the hood I'd landed in.

She hadn't seen me. She hadn't felt me, somehow. And yet, all I could do was panic and urge the squirrel to remain entirely still.

((Kiani, follow the girl coming out of changing room five! Dozy cow's only gone and nicked my coat with me in it! I'm in the hood!)) I cried out, with intent for only Kiani to hear. I felt the hood around me bouncing, and above I saw the ceiling zoom by. She had left the changing rooms, and I could only hope that Kiani was following. There was no way that she could let me know.

Any movement could give me away, so I fought the squirrel brain whose instincts were now to flee to the nearest tree. What would be the consequences of being found out? Would the woman kill me, in the middle of a busy store? No. Would she chase me? She wouldn't have a chance in hell.

Would it make her suspicious? I didn't know… Did the Yeerks know about this technology? If so, maybe they would stop there activities at Primark, and our investigation would be for nothing.

What choice do I make? In the end, I chose option three: Keep thinking and doing nothing. Wait for rescue.

The ceiling, my only point of reference, changed. It became bright blue sky with the occasional cloud. The smell of the outdoors came to me, and it was a little more reassuring to the squirrel, though still it was racked with fear.

I had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do. She didn't go into another building as the minutes steadily passed. She may have been heading to the other end of town, or she may have been walking home. Those were my _happy_ scenarios.

The scenario I ended up getting was surprising, and actually quite delightful.

I heard talking close-by, and the woman slowed to a stop. I listened in to the conversation.

The woman responded to something I couldn't decipher as he came closer. "Yes? Yes, I guess so."  
The man replied, "I'm out here doing parts of my show. I'm preparing for a gig I've got down in Salisbury next week."

"Oh. Okay…" She replied with little interest.

"You see this coin I have in my hand?"

Genius. Oliver was a genius. I knew exactly where this was going.

"Yes."

"Okay, now it's a real coin, feel it for yourself… Back into my hand, and…!"

There was a click of fingers and a moment of hesistance.

She said, "That's impressive."

"Do you like animals?" Oliver asked her.

The hood around me shuffled. I imagined that she'd shrugged her shoulders. "They're fine, I suppose."

"I've always had a soft spot for squirrels," Oliver said. "I think they have one for me, too. You know how I know that? They always come to me, in all sorts of ways."

"Okay…" She giggled lightly, but awkwardly.

"In fact…"

A second past, and then the light from above was shattered by big hairy fingers. I managed to bypass the squirrel, calmed it with my own knowledge that this hand was friendly. This hand was my rescue. Those fingers fiddled, found me and wrapped around my torso. He lifted and swung me out of the hood, bringing me into sunlight. We were indeed at the other end of town.

"Here's one right now!"

Now the woman seemed more amazed. "Oh, wow! How did you…?"

"I thought the whole rabbit in a hat thing had become a bit cliché…." Oliver laughed. He opened his palm, and I stood two-legged on it like an obedient dog. "Did I impress?"

She grinned. "You did! Thanks."

Oliver bowed. "My pleasure, ma'am."

"Good luck at your show." She wished him, and she wandered back along her desired path.

I was on the verge of laughter, and I span to face Oliver, staring up at him with my beady eyes. His gargantuan ones stared back. ((Remember that time I said that you wouldn't need to learn magic tricks to be a good actor? I take that back.))

"I'll teach you sometime," He said quietly. "Let's get you back to… you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Douglas' head flicked to the left. He'd heard something from elsewhere, and quickly dashed off, away from my attentive hand that had been scratching behind his fluffy ears. He trotted off and around a corner. My newly-freed hand went back to the cool glass of G & T, and I took a short sip of it.

It was hard to remain normal, no matter where we tried. The cosy familiarity of The Rising Sun and a soothing drink was only a little helpful, because being sat in a circle of four meant that conversations were bound to come up. We discussed Primark to death, with the conclusion a certain one: The Yeerks were using the place. There was some secret tunnel or stairwell that infested people were using. That was all we knew, but suspicions were that the Yeerk Pool was right below it.

"It's the perfect place," George surmised. "You get thousands of people going into that place, and nobody's going to second-guess somebody coming out of a changing room."

"What will Bert and Isaac do with the place?" Oliver asked us warily.

"Who knows?" Kiani said. "They want us to look at the other two places. Maybe they're trying to figure out a perimeter."

George rubbed his fingers on his chin. "That's a big perimeter…"

"It's fucking huge." Oliver clarified.

"How far is Primark from the shooting range?" I asked.

Oliver gazed momentarily up to the ceiling. "I'd say about three miles."

It didn't sound right. "This… _Pool_ can't be that big."

"Could be tunnel systems," George said. "For all we know, it could be the size of a Burger King, but it has tunnels going to it from all over the place."

"How would nobody notice three-miles-worth of tunnels being built underground?" I asked.

"They're aliens," Kiani huffed. "They have alien tech and shit…"

"Yeah, you're right." I uttered.

"Okay, so what do we think about the Country Club?" George offered.

Kiani answered first, and most confidently, "I can do it. If it's anything like Primark, it shouldn't be too bad. We've learned our lesson, right?" She glanced to me.

"I guess we know what sort of thing we're looking for." I said.

"How about Saturday?" George suggested.

"I'm not here," I replied. "I'm going home this weekend to see my family, remember?"

"Next week then. I'm free Tuesday afternoon, I think."

Oliver shook his head and sighed. "Mate, why are we planning this _now_? We don't even know if we got the Primark one right."

"Eh?" George replied.

"They paid us all that dosh just to look at a changing room? We haven't even mentioned anything to them yet. We could be doing it all wrong. We still don't even know if this isn't some set up! Some trick!"

He was clearly agitated, his eyes wide and his fists shaking as he spoke in a hushed tone. I'd managed to get a few hours' sleep here or there. He looked like a wreck.

"Relax, Oli!" Kiani urged with concern. "Why are you getting so worked up? You look like you haven't showered in days…"

He clutched crooked fingers to his temple. "Are you lot having a laugh?! Don't you understand what we're getting ourselves into? This is not a fucking third-year dissertation. Somethings going to come along and clock us 'round the head."

His voice was starting to rise out of the small circle we'd formed. George rightfully cupped a hand to Oliver's face, who quickly turned away but realised that he'd grown too loud. His head dipped, and we stared at his crown as he regained his panicked breath.

"Jesus, mate," George uttered. "Come on, it can't be like that. We've just got to take it easy, right? We can do that."

I'd never seen a grown man cry, especially not one the size of Oliver. But now I had. He started to weep, placing a thumb and a finger to his eyes. Kiani's arm dutifully went over his shoulder, but he had been holding this back for some time and covering it up, sometimes convincingly but mostly not. This outpour of emotion was a lot to stomach, but it must have been so much harder for him.

George tried to find out what was causing it. "Come on, mate. What's started this, eh?"

Oliver looked up again, releasing his face from his hand with his eyes reddened. He stuttered his words at first, seemingly afraid to get them out, but eventually they came in a whisper. "I think my mum is one of them."

The three of us exchanged glances, and then scanned the room around us. Nobody was listening in, except for Douglas who'd come trotting back, an oblivious grin on his face.

"What makes you say that?" Kiani asked.

Oliver snuffled and rubbed a tear from his cheek. His weeping was coming to a stop. "She's… she hasn't been herself for months. I know it, I just know it. She's not right."

"You don't know that." Kiani insisted, attempting to sound as convincing as possible.

Oliver had nothing to say to that, but I could see from his expression that he really meant it. Since this had started, he had changed, like he feared something terrible. He'd been thinking it for some time.

Douglas' snout appeared beside his lap, peering up from below the surface of the table. The dog panted at him, like a reassuring, optimistic smile. Oliver petted Douglas.

((We could investigate her, if you'd like.))

Oliver shot up like he'd been stung by a wasp, his wooden seat crashing against the stone wall. He almost stepped into the roaring fire, an orange wisp flicking up around his trouser leg. Kiani and George, sitting either side of him, had recoiled sharply.

"Fucking Christ…" Oliver gasped.

"Somebody get these lightweight students out of here!" Somebody shouted with laughter from the bar. The bar lady, Teresa, knew us well and watched with curiosity. We'd attracted attention.

Stricken with emotion, Oliver didn't much care. "What the fuck?! Get him away!" He stepped further away from Douglas, whose grin persisted. George got up and held onto Oliver, urging him not to cause more of a stir.

((Relax, my friends,)) Douglas spoke, with a voice eerily like Bert's. ((It's just me. I've come to speak.))

We couldn't. Not right then. People at the bar were still watching, though interest was waning. George patted Oliver's shoulder. He'd stopped his recoiling and looked like he was considering calming down.

((Take your time,)) Bert said. ((I've got four hours.))

George was able to convince Oliver to retake his seat, though Douglas was ordered to back away and get out from under the table. He sat on his hind legs between me and George, partially hidden from the rest of the pub.

((Are we settled?))

"Why are you the dog?" I seethed, completely bypassing his question. "Where's the real Douglas?"

((Don't look at me when you're talking to me,)) He insisted with a chuckle. ((Don't attract any more attention than you already have.))

"Because _we're _to blame for that." Kiani grumbled.

((We cannot meet face-to-face, but we can meet like this,)) He justified. ((Anyway, the real Douglas is upstairs in the landlord's bedroom. He's fine.))

"Why here?" George demanded. "Can't this be _our _place? Why can't we meet somewhere else?"

((Name the place.)) Bert offered.

"I don't know…" George thought. "How about…"

He looked around the rest of the table for suggestions, but all he got was a return of blank stares. I thought of my flat, the local Burger King, and even the church. Nothing else seemed right. For one thing, Bert would need to be in morph.

((Keep thinking about it,)) Bert said. ((For now, let's talk. Oliver, you think that your mother is infested?))

Oliver looked about right to release a flood of emotion again, but in biting his lips he was able to hold on. "Yeah…" was all he managed to reply.

((I can arrange for our team to follow her. It's not something we will always have the resources for, but in this exceptional circumstance, I can do it.))

"If," Kiani started, "And that's an _if_, Oli's mum is infested, would you be able to save her?"

((I'm afraid not.))

Oli physically turned away and place a fist to his mouth.

Bert continued, ((Any unusual disappearance of hosts will perk Yeerk ears. We've seen it before. They will come for family relatives or co-workers if they suspect even the slightest abnormality. They would come for you, Oliver.))

"Are you about ready to fuck off, yet?" George growled.

((Not yet. Please, I'm not here to antagonise you. That's Isaac's job,)) He accompanied that with a huffed chuckle. ((No, I'm your friend in all of this. We can be buddies, huh? You're working for me, and so I'm working for you! I'm a sweet guy like that.))

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "What do you want? You're here for something."

((I'm checking up on you. A good boss always keeps tabs on his team. Have you made any plans?))

"We went to Primark," I said while staring blandly across the table. "One of the places you gave us coordinates for. We think we found something."

((How exciting,)) Bert hummed. ((What did you find, huh?))

I leaned in a little closer. He barely moved an inch, still panting like a dopey, happy pooch. "There's a secret doorway in the changing rooms. People go in, and different people come back out."

((Sounds about right,)) Bert said. ((And you witnessed this directly?))

"Yeah, we did." I confirmed.

((Great! One confirmed entrance, assuming we aren't being too paranoid.)) He laughed.

"Very funny…" George muttered under his breath.

Bert continued, ((Good job. That's what we're paying you for. This sort of information is very useful to us.))

Kiani then raised a very important question. "How?"

((How? Ah, yeah, I should explain, huh?)) He chuckled, tail wagging like he was having a wonderful time. ((We have reason to believe that one of the main guys comes down here for the occasional visit.))

"Who's this _main guy_?" I asked.

((He's a Visser,)) Bert explained. ((That's equivalent to, oh, perhaps a Navy captain. Maybe higher. Either way, Earth is his ship. He's the one keeping all of this going.))

"And he comes here…" Kiani said, pressing a single finger to the table.

((We think so. That's why we're gaining as much information on the base as we can. He spends a lot of time elsewhere, but we know _for certain _that he comes to the United Kingdom. We suspect that he may travel to California as well, in the US.))

"So why didn't you give morphing powers to some Americans?" George asked. "They probably have a bigger base over there."

"_Everything's_ bigger over there," I uttered. "Cars. Buildings. Stomachs."

Bert answered, ((We won't use them until we know for certain where the main base is. And besides, Americans don't have the attention span. Not any that I've seen.))

"What do you plan to do about this guy?" George asked, referring to the Visser.

((Infiltrate,)) Bert said. ((We're going to get as close as we can, and we're going to delay him at every turn. Big problem is…)) He chuckled. ((He tends to punish those who make delays quite severely. Don't worry, though, that won't be your role. Hopefully, you'll never meet the guy.))


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

I embraced mother. Her oak waves of hair shrouded my face as my head rested on her shoulder, and she told me just how much she'd missed me, and how each time I left I seemed further and further away. I smelled the familiar perfumes that she would use, and she giggled in my ear like she always would whenever I re-emerged. She kissed me only the cheek before ending the hug.

"Ooh, that's new, innit!" She exclaimed, running a couple fingers over my new black handbag. "How on Earth did you afford that?!"

I grinned and held it up for a better view. "I saved up for it."

"You? Saving?" She laughed. "You're a student. You're not supposed to do that!"

"Oh, you know, we all grow up eventually." I hummed.

She turned to saunter back down the pathway that led up to the red front door. She'd come skipping out as soon as she'd seen me. "I'll put the kettle on. Are you having a cup of tea?"

"Yes please, Mum." I replied, following her into the house I'd grown up in. The old grandfather clock greeted me as it always did, being the dominant feature of the conversely bright-yellow and modern walls. There was a photo frame beside it, housing nine photos that began way back in black-and-white times when my parents were kids, all the way up to my last year of A-levels. All of the family, my teenaged brother up to my great-grandparents, was represented there.

Mum wandered into the sunlit kitchen and immediately put the kettle on to boil. I peeked into the living room, where the tele was blaring with nobody to watch it. "Where is everybody?" I asked.

"Your father's at work," She called back. "Your brother is upstairs on his bloody computer games again. Could you shout for him and ask if he wants tea as well? On the condition that he actually comes downstairs for once."

I placed a hand on the banister and swung myself partway up the carpeted stairs. "Oi, scumbag! You want tea?!"

Footsteps padded, muffled from a distance, until the unseen door creaked open. "What?" He groaned.

"Tea?!"

"Uh, yeah."

I rolled my eyes. "You going to come say hi or what?!"

"…Yeah."

I chuckled to myself and dropped from the banister. I walked back to Mum in the kitchen as the kettle was beginning its steaming drone. "He's coming down. When did you last see him? September?"

"Oh, I don't know," She huffed, shaking her head. "Ever since you left he's just vanished! Bloody teenagers. You were no different. You've only just grown out of it."

"I wasn't that bad…" I sighed, pulling a pack of Walkers from the snacks cupboard and tearing it open. Cheese and Onion. My favourite.

"Please," She chuckled. "You were hell on Earth, you were! Every word was either a whisper or a sulk. You spoke an entirely different language to the rest of us."

"Sometimes I did." I grinned, before munching on two large crisps with a crunch.

She gave a sly smile as she dropped a teaspoon of sugar into my mug. "You were always good with your languages. Sometimes I wished you'd just stuck to English like the rest of us."

"That's boring."

Sluggish feet came down the stairs, and my little fifteen-year-old brother appeared under the archway to the kitchen, grumpy as I'd come to expect, and spotty, more than before. He was truly growing up the hard way.

"Hi." He grunted.

"Aww, little Danny," I cooed ironically, forcing him into a hug I knew he didn't want. "You grow up so fast!"

He almost smiled. Almost. "Yeah, okay."

Mum passed him a perfect cup of tea. "You stay away from those games for a little while. I've hardly seen you all week."

"God, Mum…" He grumbled.

"Yeah, Mum," I said. "If he wants to waste his eyes and his time, just let him."

She passed me my mug. "Don't encourage him. The whole reason we're going to the museum tomorrow is to get him out the bloody house."

"You sure it's not because Dad just wants an excuse to see the new Space exhibit?"

Mum shrugged. "That, too. No, I want Danny to finally get out and find an interest in something. It's the only thing about you that was easy," She looked to Danny. "But you haven't got an acting bone in your body, have you."

Danny shrugged and leant against the archway.

"You're good at science, aren't ya?" I asked him, putting down my empty crisps packet on the worktop and focusing my hands on my tea.

"I guess." He grunted.

Mum had taken a seat at the dining table, where loose piles of paper lay. "What have you been doing at university? Still doing that play? Oh, what's it called…?"

"Edward Stone," I said. "It's going great! Got it all in here." I tapped a finger to my forehead.

"And how's the social life? You been partying it up good and proper?" She grinned.

I didn't smile back.

A flash of blade disturbed my thoughts, and a sweat of frightful remembrance caught me off guard.

_You'll get sliced in two like a fresh apple…_

"Amy?"

I found Mum again. The flashes went away. "Yeah?"

She was looking at me with concern, and she laughed unsurely. "That was a bit strange… Are you okay?"

"What was strange?" I asked, clearing my throat and sipping at my tea.

"You went white as a ghost!"

I laughed it off. I glanced to Danny for reassurance, but even he was perplexed. "I just remembered some coursework," I lied with a sigh. "It's due Monday. I haven't even started it."

"Important one?" Mum asked, her concern thankfully dissipating with the lie.

"Yeah. Damn… How could I forget it? No worries, though, I'll do it Sunday before I head back."

She gave me a wise motherly look. "You need to stop leaving everything to the last minute."

"Don't worry," I chuckled. "I'm an expert at last-minute-motivation."

She hummed knowingly. "Your brother's the same. He had a Chemistry exam last week that he didn't study for until the morning of the exam."

Danny groaned and rolled his head back in exasperation. "That's not true, Mum."

"Don't lie just because your sister's here."

I lost track of their bickering. Something inside of me, a deep paranoia, took over for the moment, and flooded every part of me. I hid my face behind my mug, taking shaky gulps of tea as my sights studied them both.

Oliver said that his mother was one of them, that she'd been acting strange. Could I say the same of my family? If so, could I deal with such a blow?

But no. As I watched them, I saw _them._ My mother's cosiness and my brother's teenage angst were still so strong. They weren't taken.

What if, someday, they would be? Was it worse that I'd been given the power to help, yet still I was powerless? Would I ever forgive myself?

Maybe… maybe I could ask for their protection. I could ask Bert.

What could Bert possibly do?

_Tell you not to draw attention to yourself._

I tightened fingers around my handbag, feeling the lush material against my skin.

"Think you can wake up before eleven?"

I awoke to Mum's question, directed at me. "It's not _me _that you have to worry about."

"I dunno…" She hummed. "No doubt you'll go out with your friends tonight."

"I haven't gone out with them since last year," I countered. "They're never here anymore."

"Just make sure you get plenty of sleep tonight," Mum said. "You're a different person in the mornings if you don't get enough."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Funnily enough, I was the first one awake in the morning. Well, that wasn't strictly true… I didn't sleep, so I never truly woke up.

Dad had returned later that day, and as a family we sat down over a game of Ludo, something that we always used to do when Danny and I were kids. It wasn't often that Danny smiled and seemed to enjoy himself, but that game of Ludo did the trick, and he was brighter than the full moon.

In the morning, however, he'd returned to normal. Dad made a comment about how it was approximately nine-hundred-and-thirty-two days until he became 'an actual person'. He would be as old as I was on the day that I actually felt the urge to make my own bed once I'd gotten up. Apparently, that's when the teenage days are done.

We had bacon baps for breakfast, and the scent of it was the triggering factor for Danny's weary appearance. My parents and I were around the table, each with a fresh cup of tea and our own breakfasts clutched in hungry hands. We ran through the plan for the day, which would culminate in a family film in the evening. We were going to hold a vote on which film to watch, but that got delayed because democracy clearly wasn't working.

And then we left home in Dad's big shiny SUV that he cared for so diligently. On the way to the museum, we stopped by the home of my Mum's parents who would be joining us. They were travelling in their own car, but Mum wanted to make sure that they'd remembered. The remainder of the journey was frustrating, made so by the slow speed of an elderly driver who had to follow us for directions. It took more than an hour, and we were highly relieved when we rolled over the big speed bump that demarked the museum's car park.

The air of the city was thick and dry, and the hot sun that cut through it made me wish I'd put on lighter clothing. I craved the air conditioning of the museum, but not the smell of ancient antiques and peculiarities. My grandparents were slow to pull themselves from their little hatchback and wanted to spend some time moaning about the bumpy roads, and how the city council should be changing priorities.

"Oh, shut up you old git," Mum told Grandad. "Honest to God, you never stop moaning."

Grandad waved his walking stick. "I'm waiting for you! It's too hot out here."

Dad laughed. "So why are you wearing a tweed jacket? You must be roasting in that thing."

"Bloody kids…" Grandad tutted. "Come on, let's get going before they bloody close."

"After you." Dad offered with an open palm. He looked to us with a hidden smile when the grandparents shambled past at minimum speed. We slow-marched behind them, glancing at our watches both genuinely and with amusement.

"There's loads of ants…" Danny mentioned, slouched in his walk so that his eyes were forever scanning the cracks of the tarmac.

"Let's hope we beat them to the ticket line," Dad said. "Doesn't look good right now."

"Don't wait for us," Grandma insisted. "We'll only slow you down."

"Really? Didn't notice." Dad laughed.

We made it to the ticket line, which, at this time of day, was just coming down from its busiest time, so it was a while before we were ready to head into the exhibits. The grandparents already looked fed-up and exhausted, and their not-so-subtle hints at the café hadn't aided Mum's mood, as she also had Danny's groanings to deal with. Dad remained the delegated optimist, and made the occasional off-colour joke about whoever happened to walk past, whether it was a fat person, a Muslim or a blonde. His brashness was enjoyable.

The museum was a grand old hall in the centre of the city, built way back in the days when the monarchy still ran the kingdom. The rooms were tall and wide, large enough for huge dinosaur fossils and the largest ancient artefacts. These, however, were separated into different sections of the museum, dedicated to certain specialities within the bounds of science and history. I'd never been too fond of the place, because that sort of stuff didn't really appeal to me. Dad was definitely into Space exploration and physics, and Danny had once been partial to dinosaurs. Mother was like me, but she'd long ago learned to sacrifice her own pleasure for that of the family, which became a pleasure in itself.

Grandma and Grandad… I think they were there just so we could take advantages of certain discounts. They weren't too interested in any of the exhibits.

Danny started showing interest the moment were entered the ancient creatures exhibit. His slouch vanished, and his eyes shimmered with intrigue. When greeted with a Diplodocus skeleton standing guard in the centre, under three glorious spotlights, he was pulled over like a magnet. I joined him beside the beast's enormous foot. I felt much more in awe of it than I did the last time.

"It looks like the Loch Ness monster." Danny speculated.

"Sure does." I replied.

The bones of the creature were brown and held the texture of stone. To think that such creatures lived all those years ago and grazed from trees, to be hunted and chased by the infinitely ferocious T-rex. Such powerful animals that put most modern ones to shame. I reached out a hand, leaned over the railing and brushed my fingers against its leg. I could almost sense that power.

Ancient Earth was like travelling to another world. The further back in time we looked, the stranger the creatures became in form and function. Insects were monstrous abominations several feet in length. Early dinosaurs were grown with cutting claws and a body built for speed and strike, with teeth like well-worn knives.

We travelled back beyond dinosaurs, and beyond insects. Beyond fish and flowers. Beyond the earliest, most primitive living things. As we walked deeper into the museum, the world devolved into its larval form, a cocoon of rock and mineral. The hallways became dark and spotted with twinkling stars, the paths illuminated by faint white lines.

The new exhibit was a monument to the wonders of Space. A deep, soothing voice spoke to us from overhead speakers, alluring us to the mysteries it wanted to haunt us with: Where did we come from? What caused our existence? What started it all?

"_Our scientists work day and night to uncover the secrecies of the stars. Maybe you will be the one to discover…"_

"This is it?" Grandad moaned. "This is what they spent all that money on? Some Einstein wisdom crap?"

"Christ, we've only just entered," Dad said. "I tell you what, why don't you both get a drink? We've just passed the café."

"Never thought you'd ask…" Grandad replied. "Come on, Martha, I saw sticky buns."

"That's all you ever see." She said. The pair ambled back toward the entrance of the Space exhibit where the café was waiting.

With the more able-bodied members of the family remaining, we could continue on at a more satisfying pace. The dark corridor opened out, after some sidewinding, into a two-storied hall, decorated like the vast colourful blackness of Space. The walls and ceiling moved in slow rotation with stars and sparkling galaxies, worlds infinitely far from home. Something large loomed in the very centre of the hall, starting at the ground and stretching up to almost scrape the ceiling. In what little lighting was granted to us, we were able to scoot past other visitors to begin the circular route.

"Why did we bother bringing them?" Dad asked, referring to the pair we'd left behind. "All they ever do is moan."

Mum retorted, "And you're moaning right now. We got them in for free, so what's it matter?"

"Maybe we could shoot them into Space." Danny suggested with an unusual striving for humour. Mum and Dad chuckled lightly. I failed to force myself to.

The new exhibit was okay. I was never into Space stuff, so most of it barely interested me. The presentation of big planets and swirly lights was enough to keep me involved, though, and when the enormous object in the centre of the room lit up, revealing itself as a transforming Earth, from birth to modern day, I was beginning to enjoy it. That enjoyment could not last, though, as a rather sensitive topic approached when we stepped onto the ground floor.

The board began to glow as we pressed the appealing yellow button made to look like a burning star. A mosaic of images became visible, a collection of cultural images and front pages. The voiceover returned from what little rest it got to ask us a very simple but frightening statement: "_Are we alone in the Universe? Scientists don't think it likely. Though we haven't found anything out there yet, it is said that the chances of another kind of life out there are close to a certainty."_

I almost blurted it out. Suddenly, I was finding no enjoyment in the experience, and a part of me was disturbed enough to want to sit down with Grandma and Grandad for a coffee. My emersion destroyed, I was incapable of taking any of the rest of the exhibit seriously, and I wanted nothing more than to leave. However, Danny was, for the first time, showing some real interest and was trying to engage me with it. I had to stay.

"What do you think aliens will look like?" He asked me as we stared at the image of an old newspaper headline that flashed up.

"Well…" I began, feeling a twitch curse my head, born of the images that were instantly conjured. "Small and green. Duh."

He turned to face me. "You don't sound too sure about that. I think that's stupid. _Real _aliens would be big and smart. They might even be dangerous." He grinned, almost devilishly like it were some threat in a horror story.

"Maybe. No more dangerous than a grumpy teen, though."

He swung away with a groan and a stroppy face "I'm not a grumpy teenager!"

He dragged himself away to the next lie, leaving me with the previous.

Was it so?

Roswell was there. Area 51. Tall tales long lived, but nothing that I'd come to know. Not a sniff of it. What had been legend to before was then a pathetic myth, a parody of the truth. And was that known by the creators of the epic hall with the transforming Earth and the wonders of Space? Was any one of them taken by the Yeerks and insistent on hiding any signs of their invasion?

It made me wonder. If the Yeerks were truly here in force, how many times had the truth been suppressed? What lengths would they go to in order to do so?

I imagined any length. They were the shepherds, and we were the sheep. What are sheep but a walking profit?


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

After having separated to explore the Space exhibit, Mum brought us all back together. She was swivelling a lot, as if looking for somebody. Grandad and Grandma were still not here, and I thought she was waiting for them.

"What did you make of that, son?" Dad asked Danny, ruffling his hair.

Danny glared at him, "Okay, I guess."

I laughed. I'd never seen him so engaged up until that point. Dad knew it, and disregarded Danny's apparent disinterest.

"It's amazing, innit!" Mum spoke, finally holding all attention on us. "Ready to move on?"

"Shouldn't we wait for the oldies?" I asked.

"They'll catch up."

Dad scoffed. "You kiddin'?"

"Well let's go anyway," Mum said. "Can't see a bloody thing in here."

The ground floor circled around the globe centrepiece, and the voiceover bid us farewell when we crossed through a glowing arch that signposted the way to the next exhibit. Light chat of enjoyment of the exhibit swirled between us, but I kept my words to a minimum. I still had terrible thoughts in my head, and it was hard to be upbeat. My acting could only go so far.

In the darkness ahead were the faint movements of one person standing alone. As we came closer, his smiling features came into view. He had a tag on his shirt, signifying that he was one of the museum guides. He was waiting by a nondescript door.

"Wonderful exhibit," Mum said to him as we wandered past. "How much for that Apollo model?"

She laughed, and so did he. Then, he said, "You liked it that much, huh?"

Mum stopped. "Oh, it was great! I think it's brilliant."

"Thank you!" The guide said. "We have some other models that aren't out yet."

Mum oohed and nudged Danny. "That'd be good to see next time, wouldn't it?"

The guide looked around. Nobody was there. "I wouldn't normally do this, but I could show you. They're just through here." He pointed an elbow to the door he was guarding.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Mum said to Danny.

Danny shrugged. "Yeah, that'd be cool."

The guide nodded and fiddled with a set of keys that accompanied his belt. With one set of fingers to locate the lock, he slipped the key in and twisted the system open with a click. The door opened inwards to pitch black.

An image struck me, and I hesitated as I stared into the darkness. I felt uneasy, and I knew that I didn't want to enter. Something wasn't right.

"Ladies first." Dad said. He held out a palm ahead of me, while the guide grinned welcomingly.

_It's just a museum backroom. It's just a backroom!_

I was going to make a scene. I didn't want to go in, and I wasn't going to be forced. Think…

"Could I, uh… I need to go to the toilets," I excused. "I'll join you in a bit, okay?"

"We'll wait for you." Mum said cheerily.

"No, no," I giggled. "I know where you are. I'll just knock on the door when I get back."

I quickly scooted away, returning to the main space of the exhibit. I glanced over my shoulder just as I turned the corner.

Their silhouettes had not moved.

I was swallowed by dread. My index finger became glued to my teeth, and I bit lightly at the skin. My eyes darted left and right and my legs felt weak.

_Get it together, Amy! You're paranoid!_

Here? In a museum? Yes, I was paranoid. But I also wasn't stupid.

I jogged through the exhibit quietly until I reached the beginning, bumping into other visitors on the way, encumbered by the darkness. I apologised in whispers, and continued to scurry through, eventually emerging from the other end into the hallway between exhibits.

The café was quiet, but Grandad's inane ranting was the majority of the noise. I could see that their drinks were empty. I stepped over, pulled on a mask of calm, and smiled. "Hi!"

"Oh, hello Amy," Grandma greeted. "Are you enjoying the museum?"

I shrugged and dragged a third seat from beneath the small square table to sit with them. "It's a museum," I replied with a sigh. "Museums are meant to be boring. It's okay for the first ten minutes, but then…"

Grandad tapped a finger firmly on the table. "What this museum needs is less rubbish!"

"Oh, Gerald!" Grandma snapped.

"Why do we spend so much money on wishy-washy namby-pamby tripe?" He said. "Evolution? Dinosaurs? What a load of drivel!"

"I think the place is lovely." Grandma said sweetly.

"That's not what you told me," Grandad huffed. He looked at me. "You think you can cope with your grandmother's wittering?"

"I guess…"

He turned back to her. "You see? You don't need to be all innocent Miss Sunshine around our Amy. She's old enough now."

Grandma was clearly caught in two minds. In the end, she just drank from her empty cup.

I was so thankful that they were here.

"I'm thirsty," I uttered. "You both want another drink? Or some cake? I think they have scones."

"Such a good girl," Grandma chuckled. "I've waited so long for you to buy _us _a drink. It'd be rude to refuse, isn't that right Gerald?"

Grandad grunted. "Do they have beef foggy?"

Grandma shook her head. "Oh, don't be silly."

I glanced over the café counter. "They have pasties."

"Devon or Cornwall?" He demanded.

"Devon."

"Blegh!" He exclaimed. "What kind of museum is this? No tanks and no Cornish pasties. What a load of rubbish!"

He continued to rant, but Grandma had stopped listening and asked me, "Where are your parents, dear?"

"They're still in the Space room. You should see Danny. He's loving it!"

She smiled. "Oh, that's good. Your mother says he's always been good with science."

"Yeah, he is," I said. "Show him something he likes and he suddenly becomes all excited."

"You were always the same." She chuckled.

I moved to the café counter after asking them specifically what they wanted. Two teas, a chicken lattice for Grandad, a slice of lemon drizzle cake for Grandma, and an orange juice for myself. I pulled up a tray and loaded it with sugar and napkins, before the barista placed the items one-by-one into the space remaining.

When I hooked my fingers beneath the tray and turned to walk it back to the table, I saw Dad. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans, thumbs held on the lips, and he was smiling at me. It was warm but tinged with impatience that gently peeked through.

"Stopping for a lunch break?" He laughed when I set the tray down between my grandparents.

I quickly took my seat. "Yeah, I'm hungry. Something up?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "We're waiting for you down there. Are you coming?"

Grandma and Grandad were greedily digging into their food and chortling their surprise at my unexpected gift, as if I'd never bought anybody anything before. I made a point of placing my drink in both hands and leaning back into my plastic seat. "I'm going to give the next exhibit a miss. The history of chemistry isn't really all that interesting to me."

"We're waiting to see the models in the backroom," Dad explained. "You said you'd come see it."

I waved a nonchalant hand. "Don't wait on me. I'll catch up to you in about twenty minutes, okay?"

He didn't move a muscle. No… That wasn't true. His smile levelled, if only by a couple millimetres. "Come on, Amy. You saw Danny, didn't you? He wants you down there. Hell, it's the first thing he's gotten excited about in three years. Don't spoil it for him."

He couldn't see what I felt. Inside, I was melting, my hope gradually burning away. With every word and second he urged me, the paranoia was winning over.

The girl at the changing rooms, guarding that secret door that only let in the… what even were they?

A guide at a secret door –_a backroom. _ That wholesome smile.

A trick of my own mind. The consequence of my enhanced fear. It could have been just that: a friendly guide eager to show off what was yet to come. It could also have been a trap.

If it was a trap… I couldn't bear to think of what that meant.

If I tried too hard to avoid going down, what would happen? Best case scenario: Danny would be sorely disappointed. Worst: They would find another way to take with, perhaps with more force.

The choice was obvious.

"I'm sure he's grown-up enough to see it without me," I told him. "I promise I'll see you in twenty minutes. Just leave me out of the chemistry stuff."

Now his smile had gone completely. "Amy…" He said with a tone I hadn't heard since he last chastised me as a child. "Come downstairs with your family. I'm really not impressed with this attitude."

Dad was now acting out of character. He hadn't forced me to do anything since the moment I started A-levels. He saw me as independent. Now he was suddenly demanded I see a museum exhibit with my little brother? It wasn't right. It wasn't normal.

The hope left. I could have collapsed. I was determined enough not to.

I had to think of something, and quickly.

"Oh, let her be, Devin." Grandma insisted.

Grandad huffed. "If she doesn't want to see some stupid models, she doesn't want to see some stupid models!"

He tapped me on the shoulder, restrained anger on his face. "Come on. Downstairs."

I thought of something. I would know.

"I was down there yesterday," I said to him. "I've seen the models."

He paused, and he was uncertain. "Eh?"

I made sure to glance at the grandparents, to appear like I was hiding something. I repeated, "I was down there yesterday."

He stared at me with muddled confusion. There was no going back, so I had to clarify. I got up, excused myself and grabbed him by the arm. I took him to the corner of the café where nobody was around to here.

"What is this?" He seethed. "What do you mean?"

I paid close attention to my words, but allowed them to flow like truth. "I was down there yesterday. I'm not due back yet."

"I-I didn't think…" He stammered. "We were told to bring her down for infestation."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, somebody is obviously not doing their job right. This one is taken. I didn't think _you _were."

He sighed, and took a precautionary look back to the grandparents. "Why are you wasting your time with them?"

"I was thirsty, and that Space exhibit was giving me a headache. I'd eventually tell them to go home."

He was now acting with more assuredness. "Fine. We're heading down to the pool. I'm sure that when we get back, we can get to know each other, now that we know…"

"I'll stick around with these two for a little while," I said, pointing a thumb in my grandparents' direction. "Then I'll… I don't know, go for a walk. What time are you expecting to be back at the car?"

"Five-thirty."

"See you at five-thirty, then."

Dad left the café and re-entered the darkness of the Space exhibit. I left for the toilets, locked myself away, and I cried until the time came to leave.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

I avoided the car journey home. Not only was it obvious that I'd been crying and gripping at my hair, but I knew that I'd be putting myself and the others in great danger if I was going to be questioned unprepared. I left a note, clamped to the windscreen beneath the wipers, and on that note was the excuse that I had an urgent meeting to attend. I left it that vague. Specifics could be disastrous.

What hope did I have? I wasn't safe with them anymore. If I had to avoid them, then surely they would grow suspicious. Maybe I'd have to disappear… I'd have to leave my friends and university. I'd have to hide away somewhere, a nameless hermit with baggy eyes and baggier trousers.

My only hope was for help from someone who knew exactly what was going on. I had to talk to Bert, or Isaac. Preferably Bert.

I caught a train back to my apartment in the university town. I avoided eye contact with everybody and sank dejectedly into my grubby, uncomfortable chair. I appeased some basal instincts with endless decaf coffees, Pringles and Aero bars. It did nothing to fight away the trauma that swallowed me.

I ran out of tears long before I stepped off onto the station platform. Hollowed and cold, I barely felt the breeze that pushed me home, and every step was felt to be the last before I would collapse into nothing. With no conscious mind to engage them, they still found a way to bring me safely back, though I never felt thankful.

Everything I owned and everything I'd worked for, all the personal items that lined the shelves of my room and the clothes that were lined up neatly in the drawers, the photos that were tentatively held up against candles or books so that they would always be visible, and the books that added so much character and wonder to my world, all shrank to meaningless organisations of dust and debris. It was all a cursed memory, a link to the past that I thought was still the present. I couldn't stay.

It was approaching midnight when I set out into the streets. Stumbling groups of party-goers invaded one half of the street that went from one establishment to the other, and I remained on the path that took me past sleepy homes. For the fifth time that evening, my phone cried out for my answer, but as with each time before I allowed it to drone on before it gave up.

I reached the home with newly painted fences and the red door that became black in the night. I tapped the knock, quiet enough not to draw attention, but loud enough for it to be heard. I knocked a second time when no reply came.

The dread of loneliness was ready to descend, when I heard the tiny squeak of something opening up above. When I craned my neck, I saw the outline of a bundle of curly hair.

"Yes?" Spoke the tired old voice.

"I need to speak to Bert. Or Isaac," I whispered. "Or anybody. Please."

She appeared to scan up and down the street. "Hold on just a minute, my dear."

The window closed. I tapped a nervous foot on the doorstep as I waited, ground my teeth and rubbed shaky fingers against my chin. Enough time passed that I became numb to my senses, and it was only when my name was snapped into my ear that I noticed the door had been opened. The hallway lighting remained off, so I could barely make out Lisa's face, but I knew it was her.

"What is it, my dear?" She asked lightly.

"I need to speak to somebody," I said. "Right now. I need to."

She shuffled sideways and waved a hand to urge me in, and I moved to accept the offer. "Yes, yes, okay. Come in, come in." She closed the door silently behind me, and then flicked the light switch, brightly illuminating the hallway.

"Is Bert here?" I asked her. Perhaps she could tell that I was on the verge of tears, because she responded with a very sympathetic look. She led me through to the living room, switching on the lights and offering me a place on the sofa. It felt like I was sitting down in any old living room, with thick crimson curtains, wallpapers covered in pink petals and a small television set in the corner. The electric fireplace was resting, watched over by small porcelain farm animals on the mantelpiece. Lisa, looking weary in her purple dressing gown and pink fluffy slippers, pulled up a small coffee table.

She chuckled and provided some light chat. "Fancy turning up at this time of the night. Old girl like me should be fast asleep. You're lucky I like to read in the late hours."

"Thank you," I replied quietly. "And I'm sorry. I just… I just need to speak to Bert. Is he here?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear. Would you like a drink? Orange squash? A glass of water?"

"Water, please."

I sat twitching during the time she was away to fetch my water. A layer of dread coddled me, cushioned by Bert's absence. He was the one I wanted. I felt that I could at least start to stitch the wounds with his knowledge. If he wasn't around, then who else could do that?

Lisa returned with my water and set it down on the coffee table. I'd lost any will to drink it. She joined me on the sofa and cusped her little hands on her lap. Her gaze was one I couldn't help to avoid, but at least I felt a little warmer.

"What's the matter, dear?"

_What's the matter?_

I couldn't hold it any longer. I felt my face contort and my eyes water. I shielded them with my shaking hands and leaned forward, and I sobbed louder than I would have liked. No matter how much I tried I couldn't bring myself to speak a word.

Lisa's arm wrapped over my shoulders, but though I recognised the intent it wouldn't register. She was little more than a stranger. If anything, it made me feel embarrassed, which only worsened my tears. She spoke to me sentimentally, motherly. I didn't accept, but nor did I push her away.

Soon, I felt the bursting dam of emotion restructuring. I placed my family back into the cupboards of my mind and tried to hide them away. I pictured a stage. I pictured George. I pictured my old school friends on a day trip to Land's End, smiling and hurriedly licking ice cream before it melted down their fingers.

"You can talk to me."

War and Peace. Romeo and Juliet. The Lord of the Rings. I liked those stories, for as varied and wild as they were. So well written that they pulled me in for hours and hours, each day and night. I re-watched the happier scenes in my head, what there was of them… No, maybe I could think of some happier ones. Happy stories. Yeah, I knew some!

_They're practically dead. Fucking dead._

I found another section of the dam burst, its innards spilling down to a deep ravine below. And in that ravine were memories of my childhood. The pictures on the lobby wall. Dad was taking me to Alton Towers. Danny was only a small boy when he scored his first goal. Mum made me dress in a disgustingly pink frock for my uncle's wedding.

When did it happen? Which of these memories were frauds?

_I could still be wrong. I could still be wrong!_

Five-hundred thousand wouldn't come close to buying back what I'd lost.

"My family are infested."

Lisa's cooing stopped, and the grip of her arm lessened. "Well… well what makes you think_ that_, dear?"

I sobbed and rubbed the moisture from my cheeks with a scrunched sleeve. "I saw… I mean, I just…"

How could I explain? How could I put it into words?

"I j-just know," I stuttered. "Okay? I just know."

"There, there," Lisa whispered, gripping me firmly one last time before removing herself. "Even if that were true – and it may not be – there will be a chance to help them," She looked me firmly in the eyes, pleading for leniency. "Do you understand that?"

I locked onto her ice-blue, wrinkled eyes. In them, I saw nothing familiar, like it was a mask donned by an imposter. And yet, there was certainty. Somewhere. Was it a projection of my own feelings? I couldn't tell. "I understand."

"Good. Now, I'm going to talk to Isaac, and together we'll figure out a plan, okay? We're going to need one."

I nodded with a sniffle. "Okay."

"Have you talked to them at all? Your family?"

I felt a surge of guilt. After the hours had passed, my decision suddenly felt like a disastrous move. I looked to the floor. "I said I was one of them."

"One of what, dear?"

"A Yeerk. I mean, I didn't use that word, but… ugh, you know what I mean."

She fell silent for a moment. I could almost feel the mysterious emotions that overtook her. "Did you say anything else?"

I shook my head. "No. I left."

"You'll say nothing more to them. Not now. Not until we figure something out. Do you have a phone?"

I turned my eyes back to her, and her face was stern and serious. "Yeah…"

Lisa held out her hand. "I can't let you have it."

"I won't call them," I whimpered. "I promise not to!"

"You say that now, but a damaged mind is unreliable. Give me your phone."

I felt another wave of sobs approaching, and as I put my head into my left hand, the right reached down into my pocket and pulled out the phone that hadn't stopped ringing since I left the museum.

Lisa snatched it quickly from my grasp. "Stay here tonight. There are blankets in the cupboard under the stairs. I'll call Isaac, and with hope he'll get here soon enough. This mess cannot become a problem." She got up and shoved my phone deep into the pocket of her dressing gown.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

My fingers gripped tightly at the phone, and I held my breath as much as I could. It was steady enough, at least as far as I could tell. But it was hard. It was very hard.

"So what have they got you doing?" He asked me.

"I'm on recruitment up here. They're trying to get the university lecturers. I suppose that's reasonable."

Dad cackled. "Knowledge is power. Isn't that what they say?"

I kept my eyes on the entrance to the alleyway. There was a group on the other side of the road, but I would have been too far in the shadows for them to see. Not that they would care about me, anyway. They were so obviously on their way to the nearest bar.

"They could get worse," I replied. "I'm sorry I didn't stick around to tell you. The Sub-Visser up here is very demanding."

"It's okay, I understand. At least we know now."

"At least we know…" I repeated quietly.

"When you're down here again, we can have a catch-up. The pool is small, but we're a close group. It's a lot less formal. You'll enjoy it. No chance of the Visser visiting, either. Probably why it's such a relaxed atmosphere."

I shuddered. To hear my Dad's voice so nonchalant was terrifying. "Sorry, Asrelt, I have to go. I'm being approached."

"Oh, okay. Talk soon."

I took the phone from my ear and disconnected the call. I collapsed back against the damp wall and choked a silent tear. There was time to compose myself before entering the Rising Sun, just down the road, where we'd agreed to meet again for what would either be a pleasant drink or some important meeting.

Nobody knew. Tonight they would. What might start as a pleasant drink would certainly not end that way. I just had to keep my mask on. Keep calm, keep cool, keep composed. I'd had a couple days to recover and take the news, but it remained like a hot iron to my chest, still burning just as bright and mercilessly.

_Come on, Amy. It needs to be done._

My phone was placed firmly into my jeans pocket and I walked out into the night. Just down the road I saw The Rising Sun, a beacon on the horizon. There was nobody outside, and we'd chosen what was usually a quiet night, so we didn't expect there to be many people. When I walked through the big heavy wooden door, I was immediately greeted by the kindly face of Douglas, tail wagging and tongue lapping. I gave him a pat on the head and indulged in the moment. I smiled, and for just that moment I forgot it all.

Douglas scuttled off at the promise of some dropped pork scratchings beside the bar. At the call of my name, I spotted George, Oliver and Kiani in their usual spot beside the glowing fireplace. Before the fourth and empty seat was a tumbler glass, filled with a pink Gin and Tonic that awaited my attendance. I tried to maintain the smile the Douglas afforded me, but it faltered. They thought nothing of it.

"Hi, Amy," George greeted as I shifted the chair to sit. "You didn't call. Have a good weekend?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." I responded with false enthusiasm.

I looked at all of their faces. George's, Kiani's… Oliver was smiled. Grinning, almost.

How odd that that didn't seem right. Oliver was always smiling before we found out about the Yeerks. Since then he'd been little more than a husk. Now he was smiling like he'd been before?

"You look happy." I said to him.

"He got some good news," Kiani explained. "Tell her, Oli."

He leaned forward, an invitation for me to do the same. "I got a note from Bert," He spoke quietly. "He's been watching my mum."

The word stung. Hiding that, I asked, "What did the note say?"

"She lost her job months ago," He replied with unhindered glee. "She's been hiding it from us. She got two cleaning jobs in the city and she's too proud to say it! _That's _why she's not acting right!"

I stared at him, no longer able to hold a straight face. His hauntingly ecstatic response to such news was not at all what I'd expected.

"Amy?"

My eyes veered to George. He was curious, and he was always the first to know when something was wrong with me.

Kiani spoke up. "Isn't that great? Panic over, we can all sleep easier tonight, huh?"

I felt like punching her. Punching Oliver. Then I would have collapsed into George's arms. Everybody else could have died, for all I cared.

George was past curiosity. "What's wrong?"

"My family is infested."

"Oh…" Kiani gasped. I could hear her hand slap like a clamp around her own jaw. I could only imagine Oliver's stupid grin vanishing.

I could only look at George, and he was watching me with upmost sympathy. His hand quickly found mine. "What makes you say that?" He asked me gently.

I struggling to churn out the words. "I saw… They went to a Yeerk Pool. In the museum near home. Then I spoke to Dad. He's one of them. So are Mum and Danny."

"Geez…" Oliver sighed. "Amy, I'm so, so sorry. Really sorry."

"No, it's fine," I told him though I still looked to George. "You didn't know."

"We need to tell Bert," George insisted, forcibly but his voice restrained to be hushed in the quiet pub. "Maybe he can help."

"I spoke to Isaac." I replied, squeezing his hand.

"You spoke to Isaac before us?!" Kiani butted in.

I was momentarily drawn away from George to look at her. "Does it really matter?!"

"Yeah!" She exclaimed. She flinched, and I suspected that Oliver had nudged her under the table in order to draw her attention to her own volume. "We're a team, aren't we?"

"We are," I responded, before turning back to George. "I didn't know what to do… I told my Dad – or that Yeerk – that I was one of them. I went to them because I needed their help, and quick."

George was stunned, and he seethed, "You told him you were one of them?!"

"I didn't know what else to do!" I insisted, once more on the verge of breaking down under their interrogation. "They were going to take me down into the Yeerk pool. I had to do _something!_"

Oliver asked, "So they think you're a Yeerk now?"

I nodded solemnly. "Yeah, they do. I've just told Dad that I'm a recruiter up here. Isaac gave me a backstory to use if I get cornered."

"Backstory?" George asked.

I rubbed at my watery eyes. "I'm Erhaf Two-Six-Eight. This body is my first host and I've just been transported from the Yeerk home world. My siblings were left behind. I belong to Sub-Visser Thirteen and my relationship with him is tense but workable. My great ambition is to get off this stinking planet, get back home in a more capable host body and live out my days drinking fine wines until I find another Yeerk to fuck and then die."

They were silent, all three of them, which came as no surprise.

"I think I know why they chose us." I said lightly.

"Fuck…" Oliver groaned, this first to offer an opinion.

"I don't buy it. Now way." Kiani followed with a shake of her head.

George was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Something weird is going on here."

"No shit…" George said.

Kiani continued, "I don't think we're being told the full story here. We're being played, I know it. This is some fucking joke!"

"What are you talking about?" I demanded of her.

She got up, just about ready to storm off, but she wouldn't do so before an explanation. "We get told about these shits, then hardly two weeks pass and your family try to take you down into some _Yeerk Pool? _Good timing. Really convenient. What a fucking joke!"

She left, and we wouldn't expect her to return that evening. With her handbag and without a final glance she slammed the pub door on exit.

"She didn't need to act like that." George grumbled when we'd recovered from the shock of her outburst.

"You're surprised?" Oliver asked. "It _is _quite a coincidence."

"Maybe it's just that," George suggested. "She doesn't know for sure."

Oliver looked down at his half-empty pint glass in thought. "We're in deep shit, no matter what, aren't we?"

"Yeah…" George sighed. "I guess… I guess we just carry on doing what we're doing."

I heard that and pulled my hand instantly from his. "What? _Carry on?! _My family are...!" I realised that I was shouting. I lowered my voice. "My family are infested. You just want to _carry on_?!"

He looked genuinely apologetic. "Yeah, you're right, you're right. Sorry. Maybe we should talk to Bert and Isaac, see if they can't do something to help them."

"What can they do?" Oliver asked. "Free all of them? Wouldn't that just make the Yeerks aware that something is going on?"

"There'll be a way. Has to be." George said.

"I'll kill the fuckers." I spat.

George narrowed his eyes. "Eh?"

"Those Yeerks," I clarified. "They think they can take my family? I'll tear them to fucking shreds. I don't care who gets in the way. As soon as I get the chance, they're dead!"

George took my hand again, but it was gently and cautious. "If we take our time and do things right, we can save them."

I sighed, my sudden rush of anger subsiding as quickly as it had risen. I sobbed instead. "I just want them back…"

He held me closer now, holding my head against his chest as I allowed the emotion to escape. He continued to speak to Oliver. "We need to decide what we're doing next."

"We haven't been given any new instructions," He replied. "I guess they just want us to spy on the other sites. That country club and the training ground. Personally, I don't see why they can't do it themselves."

George paused for a while before speaking again. "It _is _a bit weird."

"Yeah. Weird. Maybe they just don't have the time to do it themselves. I get the feeling that they're involved in a lot of things. More than just us."

"Who even are they?" Oliver asked.

George had no answer. I thought about it, too. We'd never gotten an answer. Was Kiani trying to see something that we couldn't? She obviously held no trust in them and was frustrated that we were continuing to play along. Was she right to be so untrusting?

I started to lift myself away from George's chest, still sniffling. "They had those aliens. We haven't seen any apart from those dead ones."

"Did they even tell us what they did?" Oliver asked.

"They just said they were allies," George recalled. "They're here for justice."

"Do you sense bollocks?"

George shrugged to him. "_Vague_ bollocks. We know nothing, really."

Oliver started to laugh. "We're invaded by aliens. Suddenly, we're met with a bunch of people giving out alien technology, and they won't tell us who they are. You know what? Kiani's right."

George wasn't ready to dive into conclusions. He'd always been so cautious. "Let's not just decide that sort of thing. Let's just be careful. We could keep an eye on them. We know where they're based."

"Where we _think _they're based." I spoke.

"We say nothing to them apart from the spy stuff," George insisted. "As far as they know, we're just playing along with their mission. We'll meet up here again tomorrow. Oli, can you bring Kiani?"

Oliver was staring straight ahead. He wasn't paying attention.

"Oli?"

He had seen something. From his seat against the wall he stared straight ahead. George followed his gaze, to his right, and he too saw something too distracting to ignore. I looked over my shoulder.

Across the pub, at the far end of the bar, was Douglas. With a dopey, panting smile and wagging tail, no less. But his eyes stared, and they watched…


End file.
